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THE MEDIAEVAL MIND
/
MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited
LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO
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TORONTO
THE ' /' -■
MEDIAEVAL MIND
A HISTORY OF THE DEVELOPMENT
OF THOUGHT AND EMOTION
IN THE MIDDLE AGES
BY
HENRY OSBORN TAYLOR, Litt.D.
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II
SECOND EDITION
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
1914
COPYRIGHT
First Edition igii
Second Edition 1914
Z4vv\
LfLrc-r-/, UnV. of
CONTENTS
BOOK IV
THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL: SOCIETY
{continued)
CHAPTER XXV
PAGE
Parzival, the Brave Man slowly Wise. ... 3
CHAPTER XXVI
The Heart of Heloise . 29
CHAPTER XXVII
German Considerations: Walther von der Vogelweide 55
BOOK V
SYMBOLISM
CHAPTER XXVIII
Scriptural Allegories in the Early Middle Ages ;
Honor lus of Autun ....... 67
V
vi THE MEDIAEVAL MIND
CHAPTER XXIX
PAGE
The Rationale of the Visible World : Hugo of St.
Victor 86
CHAPTER XXX
Cathedral and Mass; Hymn and Imaginative Poem . 102
I. Guilelmus Duvandus and Vincent of Beauvais.
II. The Hymns of Adam of St. Victor and the
Afttidatidianus of Alanus of Lille.
BOOK VI
LATINITY AND LAW
CHAPTER XXXI
The Spell of the Classics 133
I. Classical Reading.
II. Grammar.
III. The Effect upon the Mediaeval Man; Hildebert of
Lavardin.
CHAPTER XXXII
Evolution of Mediaeval Latin Prose . . . .176
CHAPTER XXXIII
Evolution of Mediaeval Latin Verse . . . .215
I. Metrical Verse.
II. Substitution of Accent for Quantity.
III. Sequence-Hymn and Student-Song.
IV. Passage of Themes into the Vernacular.
CONTENTS vii
CHAPTER XXXIV
PAGE
Mediaeval ArrROPRiAxioN of the Roman Law . . 260
I. The Fontes Juris Civilis.
II. Roman and Barbarian Codification.
. II. The Mediaeval Appropriation.
IV. Church Law.
V. Political Theorizing.
BOOK VII
ULTIMATE INTELLECTUAL INTERESTS OF
THE TWELFTH AND THIRTEENTH CEN-
TURIES
CHAPTER XXXV
Scholasticism: Spirit, Scope, and Method . . . 313
CHAPTER XXXVI
Classification of Topics; Stages of Evolution . . 341
I. Philosophic Classification of the Sciences ; the
Arrangement of Vincent's Encyclopaedia, of the
Lombard's Sentences, of Aquinas's Stcmma theo-
logiae,
II. The Stages of Development: Grammar, Logic, Meta-
logics.
CHAPTER XXXVII
Twelfth-Century Scholasticism 368
I. The Problem of Universals : Abaelard.
II. The Mystic Strain: Hugo and Bernard.
III. The Later Decades: Bernard Silvestris ; Gilbert de
la Porree ; William of Conches ; John of Salisbury,
and Alanus of Lille.
Vlll
THE MEDIAEVAL MIND
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE UNIVERSITIES, ARISTOTLE, AND THE MENDICANTS
CHAPTER XXXIX
BONAVENTURA
Albertus Magnus
CHAPTER XL
CHAPTER XLI
Thomas Aquinas .•■••"
I. Thomas's Conception of Human Beatitude.
II. Man's Capacity to know God.
III. How God knows.
IV. How the Angels know.
V. How Men know.
VI. Knowledge through Faith perfected in Love.
408
450
46;
CHAPTER XLII
Roger Bacon
CHAPTER XLIII
Duns Scotus and Occam . • • •
514
539
CHAPTER XLIV
The Mediaeval Synthesis: Dante .
555
INDEX
591
CONTENTS vii
CHAPTER XXXIV
PAGE
Mediaeval Appropriation of the Roman Law . . ' 260
I. The Fontes Juris Civilis.
II. Roman and Barbarian Codification.
. II. The Mediaeval Appropriation.
IV. Church Law.
V. Political Theorizinsr.
BOOK VII
ULTIMATE INTELLECTUAL INTERESTS OF
THE TWELFTH AND THIRTEENTH CEN-
TURIES
CHAPTER XXXV
Scholasticism: Spirit, Scope, and Method . . . 313
CHAPTER XXXVI
Classification of Topics; Stages of Evolution . . 341
I. Philosophic Classification of the Sciences ; the
Arrangement of Vincent's Encyclopaedia, of the
Lombard's Se7itences^ of Aquinas 's Suinma theo-
logiae.
II. The Stages of Development: Grammar, Logic, Meta-
logics.
CHAPTER XXXVII
Twelfth-Century Scholasticism ..... 368
I. The Problem of Universals : Abaelard.
II. The Mystic Strain : Hugo and Bernard.
III. The Later Decades: Bernard Silvestris ; Gilbert de
la Porree ; William of Conches ; John of Salisbury,
and Alanus of Lille.
viii THE MEDIAEVAL MIND
CHAPTER XXXVIII
PAGE
The Universities, Aristotle, and the Mendicants . 408
CHAPTER XXXIX
Bonaventura ......... 432
CHAPTER XL
Albertus Magnus 45°
CHAPTER XLI
Thomas Aquinas 463
I. Thomas's Conception of Human Beatitude.
II. Man's Capacity to know Cod.
III. How God knows.
IV. How the Angels know.
V. How Men know.
VI. Knowledge through Faith perfected in Love.
CHAPTER XLII
Roger Bacon . . . . . . . . .514
CHAPTER XLIII
Duns Scotus and Occam -539
CHAPTER XLIV
The Mediaeval Synthesis: Dante 555
INDEX .... 591
BOOK IV
THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL
SOCIETY
{Continued)
VOL. II
CHAPTER XXV
PARZIVAL, THE BRAVE MAN SLOWLY WISE
The instances of romantic chivalry and courtly love reviewed
in the last chapter exemplify ideals of conduct in some
respects opposed to Christian ethics. But there is still a
famous poem of chivalry in which the romantic ideal has
gained in ethical consideration and achieved a hard-won
agreement with the teachings of mediaeval Christianity, and
yet has not become monkish or lost its knightly character.
This poem told of a struggle toward wisdom and toward
peace ; and the victory when won rested upon the broadest
mediaeval thoughts of life, and therefore necessarily included
the soul's reconcilement to the saving ways of God. Yet it,
was knighthood's battle, won on earth by strength of arm,
by steadfast courage, and by loyalty to whatsoever through
the weary years the man's increasing wisdom recognized as
right. A monk, seeking salvation, casts himself on God ;
the man that battles in the world is conscious that his own
endeavour helps, and knows that God is ally to the valiant
and not to him who lets his hands drop — even in the lap of
God.
Among the romances presumably having a remote
Breton origin, and somehow connected with the Court of
Arthur, was the tale of Parzival, the princely youth reared
in foolish ignorance of life, who learned all knighthood's
lessons in the end, and became a perfect worshipful knight.
This tale was told and retold. The adventures of another
knight, Gawain, were interwoven in it. Possibly the French
poet, Chretien de Troies, about the year 1170, in his re-
tellings first brought into the story the conception of that
3
4 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
thing, that magic dish, which in the course of Us reteUings
became the Holy Grail. Chretien did not finish his poem,
and after him others completed or retold the story. Among
them there was one who lacked the smooth facility of the
French Trouvere, yet surpassed him and all others in thought-
fulness and dramatic power. This was the Bavarian,
Wolfram von Eschenbach. He was a knight, and wandered
firom castle to castle and from court to court, and saw men.
His generous patron was Hermann, Landgraf of Thiiringen,
who held court on the Wartburg, near Eisenach, There
Wolfram may have composed his great poem in the opening
years of the thirteenth century. He was no clerk, and had
no clerkly education. Probably he could neither read nor
write. But he lived during the best period of mediaeval
German poetry, and the Wartburg was the centre of gay
and literary life. Walther von der Vogelweide was one of
Wolfram's familiars in its halls.
Wolfram knew and disapproved of Chretien's version of
the Perceval ; and said the story had been far better told
by a certain Kyot, a singer of Provence.^ Nothing is
known of the latter beyond Wolfram's praise. Perhaps he
was an invention of Wolfram's ; not infrequently mediaeval
poets referred to fictitious sources. At all events. Wolfram's
sources were French or Provengal. In large measure the
best German mediaeval poetry was an adaptation of the
French ; a fact which did not prevent the German adapta-
tions from occasionally surpassing the French works they
were drawn from. In the instance of Wolfram's Parzival,
as in that of Gottfried von Strassburg's Tristan, the German
poems were the noblest renderings of these tales.
As our author was a thoughtful German, his style is
difficult and involved. Yet he had imagination, and his
1 As a matter of fact, in those parts of Wolfram's poem which are covered
by Chretien's unfinished Perceval le Gallois, the incidents are nearly identical
with Chretien's. For the question of the relationship of the two poems, and for
other versions of the Grail legend, see A. Nutt, Studies in the Legend of the Holy
Grail (Folk-Lore Society Publications, London, 1888) ; Birch-Hirshfeld, Die
Graal Sage ; Einleitung to Piper's edition of Wolfram von Eschenbach, Stuttgart,
Deutsche Nat. Litteratur ; Einleitung to Bartch's edition in Deutsche Klassiker
des Mittelalters (Leipzig, 1875). These two editions of the poem are furnished
with modern German glossaries. There is a modern German version by
Zimmrock, and an English translation by Jessie L. Weston (London, D. Nutt,
1894).
CHAP. XXV PARZIVAL 5
poem is great in the climaxes of the story. It is a poem of
the hero's development, his spiritual progress. Apparently
it was Wolfram who first realized the profound significance
of the Parzival legend. Both the choice of subject and the
contents of the poem reflect his temperament and opinions.
Wolfram was a knight, and chose a knightly tale ; for him
knightly victories were the natural symbols of a man's
progress. He was also one living in the world, prizing its
gifts, and entertaining merely a perfunctory approval of
ascetic renunciation. The loyal love between man and
woman was to him earth's greatest good, and wedlock did
not yield to celibacy in righteousness.^ Let fame and
power and the glory of this world be striven for and won
in loyalty and steadfastness and truth, in service of those
who need aid, in mercy to the vanquished and in humility
before God, with assurance that He is truth and loyalty and
power, and never fails those who obey and serve Him.
" While two wills {Zvifel, Z weif el = douht) dwell near the heart,
the soul is bitter. Shamed and graced the man whose dauntless
mood is — piebald ! In him both heaven and hell have part.
Black-coloured the unsteadfast comrade ; white the man whose
thoughts keep troth. False comradeship is fit for hell fire. Like-
wise let women heed whither they carry their honour, and on
whom they bestow their love, that they may not rue their troth.
Before God, I counsel good women to observe right measure.
Their fortress is shame : I cannot wish them better weal. The
false one gains false reward ; her praise vanishes. Wide is the
fame of many a fair ; but if her heart be counterfeit, 'tis a false
gem set in gold. The woman true to womanhood, be hers the
praise — not lessened by her outside hue.
" Shall I now prove and draw a man and woman rightly ?
Hear then this tale of love — joy and anguish too. My story tells
of faithfulness, of woman's truth to womanhood, of man's to
manhood, never flinching. Steel was he ; in strife his conquer-
ing hand still took the guerdon ; he, brave and slowly wise, this
hero whom I greet, sweet in the eyes of women, heart's malady
for them as well, himself a very flight from evil deed."
Such is Wolfram's Prologue. The story opens in a
forest, where Queen Herzeloide had buried herself with
her infant son after the death in knightly battle of Prince
^ In other versions of the Grail legend there is much about the virgin or
celibate state, and also plenty of unchastity and no especial esteem for marriage.
6 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
Gahmuret, her husband. The broken-hearted, f ooHsh mother
is seeking to keep her boy in ignorance of arms and knights.
He has made himself a bow ; he shoots a bird — its song ,
is hushed. This is the child's first sorrow, and childish
ignorance has been the cause ; as afterwards youth's folly
and then man's lack of wisdom will cause that child, grown
large, more lasting anguish. Now to see a bird makes his
tears start. His still foolish mother orders her servants to
kill them. The boy protests, and the mother with a quick
caress declares the birds shall have peace, she will no more
infringe God's commands. At this unknown name the boy
cries out, " O mother ! what is God ? " " Son, I will tell
thee. Brighter than the day is He — who put on a human
face. Pray to Him in need ; His faithfulness helps men
ever. There is another, hell's chief, black and false. Keep
thy thoughts from him and from doubt's waverings." Away
springs the boy again ; and in the forest he learns to throw
the hunting-spear and slay the stags. One day he hears
the sounds of hoofs. He waves his spear : " May now the
devil come in all his rage ; I'd stand against him. My
mother speaks of him in dread ; but she is just afraid."
Three knights gallop up in glancing armour. He thinks
each is a god ; falls on his knees before them. " Help, god,
since thou canst help so well ! " " This fool blocks our
path," cries one. A fourth, their lord, rides up, and the
boy calls him God.
" God ? — not I ; I gladly do His behests. Thou seest
four knights."
" Knights ? what is that ? If thou hast not God's
power, then tell me, who makes knights ? "
" Young sir, that does King Arthur ; go to him. He'll
knight you — you seem to knighthood bom."
The knights gazed on the boy, in whom God's craft
showed clear. The boy touches their armour, their swords.
The prince speaks over him : " Had I thy beauty ! God's
gifts to thee are great — if thou wilt wisely fare. May He
keep sorrow from thee ! " The knights rode on, while the
boy sped to his mother, to tell her what he had seen. She
was speechless. The boy would go to Arthur's Court. So
she bethought her of a silly plan, to put fool's garb on him,
CHAP. XXV PARZIVAL 7
that insult and scoff might drive him back to her. She
also gave him counsel, wise and foolish.
So the youth is launched. He rides away ; his mother
dies of grief. As his path winds on, he finds a lady asleep
in a pavilion, and following his mother's counsel he kisses
her, and takes her ring by force ; trouble came from this
deed of folly. Then he meets with Sigune, mourning a
dead knight. He stops and promises to avenge her. She
was his cousin and, recognizing him, called him by name,
and spoke to him of his lineage. Then the youth is piloted
by a fisherman, till, in the neighbourhood of Arthur's Court,
he meets a knight, Ither, in red armour, who greets him,
points out the way, and sends a challenge to Arthur and
his Round Table. Parzival now finds himself at Arthur's
thronging Court. The young Iwein first speaks to him and
the fool-youth returns : " God keep thee — so my mother
bade me say. Here I see so many Arthurs ; who is it that
will make me knight ? " Iwein, laughing, leads him to the
royal pavilion, where he says : " God keep you, gentles,
especially the king and his wife — as my mother bade me
greet — and all the honoured knights of the Round Table.
But I cannot tell which one here is lord. To him a red
knight sends a challenge ; I think he wants to fight. O !
might the king's hand grant me the Red Knight's harness ! "
They crowd around the glorious youth. " Thanks, young sir,
for your greeting which I shall hope to earn," said the king.
" Would to God ! " cried the young man, quivering with
impatience ; " the time seems years before I shall be knight.
Give me knighthood now."
" Gladly," returns the king. " Might I grant it to you
worthily. Wait till to-morrow that I may knight you duly
and with gifts."
" I want no gifts — only that knight's armour. My
mother can give me gifts ; she is a queen."
Arthur feared to send the raw youth against the noble
Ither, but yielded to the malignant spurring of Sir Kay,
and Parzival rode out with his unknightly hunting-spear.
Abruptly he bade Ither give him his horse and armour, and
on the knight's sarcastic answer, grasped his horse's bridle.
The angry Ither reversed his lance, and with the butt end
8 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
struck down Parzival and his sorry nag, Parzival sprang
to his feet and threw his spear straight through the visor of
the other's helmet ; and the knight fell from his horse, dead.
With brutal stupidity Parzival tried to pull his armour off,
not knowing how to unlace it. Iwein came and showed
him how to remove and wear the armour, and how to carry
his shield and lance. So clad in Ither's armour and mounted
on the great war-horse, he bids Iwein commend him to
King Arthur, and rides off, leaving the other to care for the
body of the dead knight.
In the evening he reached the castle of an aged prince,
who saw the marvellous youth come riding, with the fool
garments showing out from under his armour. Courteously
received, the youth enjoyed a bath, a repast, and a long
night's sleep. Fortunately his mother had bade him follow
the counsels of grey hairs ; so in the morning he put on the
garments which his host had left in his room for him, instead
of what his mother gave. The host first heard mass with
his simple guest, and instructed him as to its significance,
and how to cross himself and guard against the devil's wiles.
Then they breakfasted, and the old man, having heard
Parzival's story, advised him to leave off saying " My mother
bade me," and gave him further counsel : " Preserve thy
shame ; the shameless man is worthless, and at last, wins
hell. You seem a mighty lord, mind you take pity on those
in need ; be kind and generous and humble. The worthy
man in need is shamed to beg ; anticipate his wants ; this
brings God's favour. Yet be prudent, neither lavish nor
miserly ; right measure be your rule. Sorely you need
counsel; avoid harsh conduct, do not ask too many questions,
nor yet refuse to answer a question fitly asked ; observe and
listen. Let mercy temper valour. Spare him who yields,
whatever wrong he has done you. When you lay off your
armour, wash your hands and face ; make yourself neat ;
woman's eye will mark it. Be manly and gay. Hold
women in respect and love ; this increases a young man's
honour. Be constant — that is manhood's part. Short his
praise who betrays honest love. The night-thief wakes
many foes ; against treachery true love has its own wisdom
and resource. Gain its disfavour and your lot is shame."
CHAP. XXV PARZIVAL 9
The guest thanked the host for his counsel. He spoke
no more of his mother save in his heart. Then his host,
remarking that he had seen many a shield hang better on a
wall than Parzival's on him, took him out into a field ; and
there in the company of other knights he instructed him in
jousting, and found him a ready and resistless pupil. The
old man looked fondly on him — ^his daughter Liasse — she
is fair — would not Parzival think so, and stay as a son in
the now sonless house ? Fair and chaste was the damsel,
but Parzival says : " My lord, I am not wise. If I gain
knighthood's praise so that I may look for love — then keep
Liasse for me. You shall have less weight of grief if I can
lighten it."
Parzival's first experience of life and the old man's
counsels had changed him. He was no longer the callow
boy who a few days before in the forest took the knights for
gods, but a young man conscious of his inexperience and
lack of wisdom. Perhaps the change seems sudden ; but
the subtle development of character had not yet found
literary expression in the Middle Ages, and Wolfram here is
a great pioneer.
So the young knight rode away, carrying secret thoughts
of the maiden, and a little pain, his heart lightly touched
with love, and so made ready for a mightier passion. His
horse carried him on through woods and savage mountains,
to the kingdom whose capital, Pelrapeire, was besieged,
because it held its queen, Condwiramurs {coin de voire
amors). Within the town were famine and death, without,
a knightly, cruel foe, King Clamide, who fought to win the
queen by sack and ruin. Crossing a field and bridge where
many a knight had fallen, Parzival reached a gate and
knocked. A maid called out, and finding that he brought
aid and not enmity, she admitted him. Armed men weak
with hunger fill the streets, through which the maid leads
the knight on to the palace. His armour is removed, a
mantle brought him. " Will he see the queen, our lady ? "
ask the attendants. " Gladly," answers Parzival. They
enter the great hall — and the queen's fair eyes greet him.
She advances surrounded by her ladies. With courtesy she
kisses the knight, gives him her hand, and leads him to a
lo THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
seat. The faces of her warriors and women are sad and
worn ; but she — ^had she contended with Enit and both
Iseults fair, and whomsoever else men praise for beauty,
hers had been the prize.
The guest mused : " Liasse was there — Liasse is here ;
God slacks my grief, here is Liasse." He sat silent by the
queen, mindful of the old prince's advice not to ask questions.
" Does this man despise me," thought she, " because I am
no longer lovely ? No, he is the guest, the hostess I ; it
is for me to speak." Then aloud : " Sir, a hostess must
speak. Your greeting won a kiss from me ; you offered
me your service — so said my maid. Rare offer now ! Sir,
whence come you ? "
" Lady, I rode this very day from the house of the good,
well-remembered host. Prince Gurnemanz."
" Sir, I had hardly believed this from another ; the way
is so long. His sister was my mother. Many a sad day
have I and his Liasse wept together. Since you bear kind-
ness for that prince, I will tell you our grievous plight."
The telling is deferred till some refreshment is obtained,
and then Parzival is shown to his chamber. He sleeps ; but
the sound of sobbing breaks his slumber. The hapless
queen in her need had sought out her guest in the solitude
of night ; she had cast herself on her knees by his couch ;
her tears fall — on him, and he awakes. Touched with love
and pity at the sight, Parzival sprang up. " Lady ! you
mock me ? You should kneel to God." In honour they
sit by each other, and the queen tells her story, how King
Clamide and his seneschal have wasted her lands, unhappy
orphan, slain her people, even her knightly defender, Liasse's
brother — she will die rather than yield herself to him.
Liasse's name stirs Parzival : " How can I help you ? "
" Save me from that seneschal, who harries me and
mine."
Parzival promises, and the queen steals away. The day
is breaking, and Parzival hears the minster bells. Mass is
sung, and the young knight arms and goes forth — the
burghers' prayers go with him — against the host led by the
seneschal. Parzival vanquishes him, grants him his life, and
sends him to Arthur's Court. The townsmen receive the
^
CHAP. XXV
PARZIVAL 1 1
victor with acclaim, the queen embraces him. Who but he
shall be her lord ? So their nuptials were celebrated,
although Parzival felt the reward to be too great ; it were
enough for him to touch her garment's hem. Soon King
Clamide himself ordered an assault upon the town, only to
meet repulse. He challenged Parzival, and, vanquished like
his seneschal, was likewise sent to Arthur's Court.
Love was strong between Queen Condwiramurs and
Parzival her husband. One morning Parzival spoke to her
in the presence of their people : " Lady, please you, with
your permission, I would see how my mother fares and seek
adventures. If thus I serve and honour you, your love is
ample guerdon."
From his wife and from all those who called him Lord,
Parzival rode forth alone. He has to learn what pain and
sorrow are ; the first teaching came now, as longing for his
wife filled his heart with grief. In the evening he reached
the shore of a lake, and saw a fisher in a boat, attired like a
king.i The fisher directed him to a castle, promising there
to be his host. Following his directions, Parzival came to a
marvellously great castle, where, on saying that the fisher
sent him, he was courteously received and his needs attended
to. Sadness pervaded the great halls. The banquet-room,
to which he was shown, was lighted by a hundred chandeliers,
and around the walls were ranged a hundred couches. The
host entered and lay down on one of them, made like a
stretcher ; he seemed a stranger to joy. They covered him
with furs and mantles, as a sick man. He beckoned Parzival
to sit by him. As the hall filled with people, a squire
entered carrying a bleeding lance, whereupon all present
made lament. A procession of nobly clad ladies followed,
bearing precious dishes, and at last among them a queen,
Repanse de Schoye. She bore, upon a silken cushion, the
fulness of all good, an object called the Grail. Only a
maiden pure and true might carry it. There also came six
other maids bearing each a flashing goblet ; and they set
their burdens before the host. Water for the hands was then
brought to the host and to his guest, and to the knights
^ The Fisher King {roi pecheur) was the regular title of the Grail kings. See
e.g. Pauline Paris, Romans de la Table Ronde, t. i. p. 306.
12 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
ranged on the couches ; and tables were placed before them
all. A hundred squires came and reverently took from the
Grail all manner of food and wine, which they set before the
knights, whatever each might wish. Everything came from
the power of the Grail.
Parzival wondered, but kept silence, thinking of the old
prince's counsel not to ask many questions, and hoping to
be told what all this might be. A squire brought a sword
to the host, who gave it to the guest : "I bore this sword in
all need, until God wounded me. Take it as amends for
our sad hospitality. Rely on it in battle."
The gift of the sword was Parzival's opportunity to ask
his host what had stricken him. He let it pass. The feast
was solemnly removed. " Your bed is ready, whenever you
will rest," said the host ; and Parzival was shown to a bed-
chamber, where he was left alone. But the knight did not
sleep uncompanioned. Coming sorrow sent her messengers.
Dreams overhung him, as a tapestry, woven of sword-strokes
and deadly thrusts of lance. He was fighting dark, endless,
battles for his life, till sweating in every limb he woke. Day
shone through the window. " Where are the knaves to fetch
my clothes ? " He heard no sound. He sprang up. His
armour lay there, and the two swords — the one which he took
from Ither and the one given him by his host. Thought he :
" I have suffered such pain in my sleep, there must be hard
work for me to-day. Is mine host in need, I will gladly aid
him and her too, Repanse, who gave me this mantle ; yet I
would not serve her for her love ; my own wife is as
beautiful."
Parzival passed through the castle's empty halls, calling
aloud in anger. He saw no one, heard no sound. In the
courtyard he found his horse, and flung himself into the
saddle. He rode through the open castle-gate, over the
draw-bridge, which an unseen hand drew up before his
horse's hoofs had fairly cleared it. He looked behind him
in surprise. A squire cursed him : " May the sun scorch
you ! Had you just used your mouth to ask a question of
your host ! You missed it, goose ! " Parzival called for
explanation, but the gates were swung to in his face. His
joy was gone, his pain begun. By chance throw of the dice
CHAP. XXV
PARZIVAL 13
he had found and lost the Grail. He sees the ground torn
as by the hoofs of knights riding hard. " These," thought
he, " fight to-day for my host's honour. Their band would
not have been shamed by me. I would not fail them in
their need — so might I earn the bread I ate and this sword
which their lord gave me. I carry it unearned. They
think I am a coward."
He followed the hoof tracks ; they led him on a way,
then scattered and grew faint. The day was young. Under
a linden sat a lady, holding the body of a knight embalmed.
What earthly troth compared with hers ? He turned his
horse to her : " Lady, your sorrow grieves my heart. Would
my service avail you ? "
" Whence come you ? Many a man has found death in
this wood. Flee, as you love your life ; but, say, where did
you spend the night ? "
" In a castle not a league from here,"
" Do not deceive. You carry stranger shield. There
is no house in thirty leagues, save one castle high and great.
Those who seek it, find it not. It is only found unsought.
Munsalvaesch its name. The ancient Titurel bequeathed it
to his son Frimutel, a hero ; but in the jousts he won his
death from love. Of his children, one is a hermit, Trevrizent ;
another, Anfortas, is the castle's lord, and can neither ride
nor walk, nor sit nor lie. But, sir, if you were there, may
be that he is healed of his long pain,"
" Many marvels saw I there," he answered.
She recognized the voice : " You are Parzival. Say,
then, saw you the Grail and the joyless lord ? If his pain
is stilled through you, then hail ! far as the wind blows
spreads your glory, your dominion too."
" How did you know me ? " said Parzival.
" I am the maid who once before told you her grief,
your kinswoman, who mourns her lover slain."
" Alas ! where are thy red lips ? Art thou Sigune who
told me who I was ? Where is fled thy long brown hair,
thy loveliness and colour ? "
Sigune spoke : " My only consolation were to hear that
you have helped the helpless man whose sword you bear.
Know you its gifts ? The first stroke it strikes well, at the
14 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
second, breaks ; a word is needed that the sword may make
its bearer peerless. Do you know this word ? If so, none
can withstand you — ^have you asked the question ? "
" I asked nothing."
" Woe is me that mine eyes have seen you ! You asked
no question ! You saw such wonders there — the Grail, the
noble ladies, the bloody spear. Wretched, accursed man,
what would you have from me ? Yours the false wolf-tooth !
You should have taken pity on your host, and asked his ail
— then God had worked a miracle on him. You live, but
dead to happiness."
" Dear cousin, speak me fair. I will atone for any ill."
" Atone ? nay, leave that ! At Munsalvaesch your
honour and your knightly praise vanished. You get no
more from me."
Parzival's fault was not accident ; it sprang from what
he was — unwise. He could atone only through becoming
wise through the endurance of years of trial. The unhappy
knight rode on, loosing his helmet to breathe more
freely. Soon he chanced to overtake the lady Jesute,
travelling on a mean horse in wretched guise, her garments
torn, her face disfigured. He offered aid, and she, recognizing
him, said with tears that her sorrows all were due to him ;
she was the lady whose girdle and ring his fool's hand had
taken, and now her husband Orilus treated her as a woman
of shame. Here the proud duke himself came thundering
up, to see what knight dared aid his cast-off wife. Parzival
conquered him after a long combat ; and the three went to
a hermitage where the victor made oath that it was he who
took by force the ring and girdle from the blameless lady.
Returning the ring to Orilus, he sent him with his lady,
reconciled and happy, to Arthur's Court. Thus Parzival's
knighthood made amends for his first foolish act. He
found a strong lance in the hermitage, took it, and departed.
When Orilus and his lady had been received with honour
at Arthur's Court, the king with all his knights set forth
towards Munsalvaesch to find the mighty man calling
himself the Red Knight, who had sent so many conquered
pledges of his prowess ; for he wished to make him a knight
of the Round Table. It was winter. Parzival — the Red
CHAP. XXV PARZIVAL 1 5
Knight — came riding from the opposite direction. As he
drew near the encampment of the king, his eye hghted on
three drops of blood showing clear red in the fresh-fallen
snow ; in mid air above, a wild goose had been struck by
a falcon. The knight paused in reverie — red and white —
the colours carried his thoughts to his heart's queen,
Condwiramurs. There he sat, as a statue on his horse,
with poised spear ; his thoughts had flown to her whose
image now closed his eyes to all else. A lad spied the
great knight, and ran breathless to Arthur, to tell of the
stranger who seemed to challenge all the Round Table.
Segramors gained Arthur's permission to accost him. Out
he rode with ready challenge ; Parzival neither saw nor
heard, till his horse swerved at the knight's approach, so
that he saw the drops no longer. Then his mighty lance
fell in rest, Segramors was hurled to the ground, and took
himself back discomfited, while Parzival returned to gaze
on the drops of blood, lost in reverie as before. Now Kay
the quarrelsome rode out, and roused the hero with a rude
blow. The joust is run again, and Kay crawls back with
broken leg and arm. Again Parzival loses himself in reverie.
And now courtly Gawain, best of Arthur's knights, rides
forth, unarmed. Courteously he addresses Parzival, who
hears nothing, and sits moveless. Gawain bethinks him it
is love that binds the knight. Seeing that Parzival is
gazing on three drops of blood, he gently covers them with
a silken cloth. Parzival's wits return ; he moans : " Alas,
lady wife of mine, what comes between us ? A cloud has
hidden thee." Then, astonished, he sees Gawain — a knight
without lance or shield — does he come to mock ? With
noble courtesy Gawain disclosed himself and led the way to
Arthur's Court, where fair ladies and the king greeted the
hero whom they had come to seek. A festival was ordained
in his honour. The fair company of knights and ladies are
seated about the Round Table ; the feast is at its height,
when suddenly upon a gigantic mule, a scourge in her rough
hand, comes riding the seeress Cundrie, harsh and unlovely.
Straight she addresses Arthur : " Son of King Uterpendragon,
you have shamed yourself and this high company, receiving
Parzival, whom you call the Red Knight," She turns on
1 6 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
Parzival : " Disgrace fall on your proud form and strength !
Sir Parzival, tell me, how came it that you met that joyless
fisher, and did not help him ? He showed you his pain,
and you, false guest, had no pity for him. Abhorred by all
good men, marked for hell by heaven's Highest, you ban
of happiness and curse of joy ! No leech can heal your
sickened honour. Greater betrayal never shamed a man. so
goodly. Your host gave you a sword ; you saw them bear
the Grail, the silver dishes, and the bloody spear, and you,
dishonoured Parzival, were silent. You failed to win earth's
chiefest prize ; your father had not done so — are you his
son ? Yes, for Herzeloide was as true as he. Woe's me,
that Herzeloide' s child has so let honour slip ! " Cundrie
wrung her hands ; her tears fell fast ; she turned her mule
and cried : " Woe, woe to thee Munsalvaesch, mount of
pain ; here is no aid for thee ! " And bidding none farewell,
she rode away, leaving Parzival to his shame, the knights to
their astonishment, the ladies to their tears.
Cundrie was hardly out of sight, before another shame
was put on the Round Table. An armed knight rode in,
and, accusing Gawain of murdering his king and cousin,
summoned him to mortal combat within forty days before
the King of Askalon. Arthur himself was ready to do
battle for Gawain, but that good knight accepted, the
challenge with all courtesy.
Parzival's lineage was first known to the Court from
Cundrie' s calling him by name and speaking of his mother.
Now Clamide, once Condwiramurs's cruel wooer, begged the
hero to intercede for him with another fair one, the lady
Cunneware. Parzival courteously complied. A heathen
queen then saluted him with the news that he had a
great heathen half-brother, Feirefiz, the son of Parzival's
father by a heathen queen. Thanking her, Parzival spoke to
the company : " I cannot endure Cundrie' s reproach ; — what
knight here does not look askance ? I will seek no joy until
I find the Grail, be the quest short or long. The worthy
Gurnemanz bade me refrain from questions. Honoured
knights, your favour is for me to win again, for I have lost
it. Me yet unshamed you took into your company ; I
release you. Let sorrow be my comrade ; for I forsook
CHAP. XXV PARZIVAL 1 7
my happiness on Munsalvaesch. Ah ! helpless Anfortas !
You had small help from me."
Knights and ladies were grieved to see the hero depart
in such sorrow, and many a knight's service was offered him.
The lady Cunneware took his hand ; Lord Gawain kissed
him and said : "I know thy way is full of strife ; God grant
to thee good fortune, and to me the chance to serve thee."
" Ah ! what is God ? " answered Parzival. " Were He
strong, He would not have put such shame on me and you.
I was His subject from the hour I learned to ask His favour.
Now I renounce His service. If He hates me, I will bear
it. Friend, in thine hour of strife let the love of a woman
pure and true strengthen thy hand. I know not when I
shall see thee again ; may my good wishes towards thee be
fulfilled."
The hero's arms are brought ; his horse is saddled ; his
grievous toil begins.
Why should long sorrow come to Parzival for not asking
a question, when his omission was caused neither by brutality
nor ill will ? when, on the contrary, he would gladly have
served his host ? The relation between his conduct and his
fortune seems lame. Yet in life as well as in literature,
ignorance and error bring punishment. Moreover, to
mediaeval romance not only is there a background of
sorcery and magic, but active elements of magic survive in
the tales. ^ And nothing is more fraught with magic import
and result than question and answer. Wolfram did not
treat as magical the effect upon his hero's lot of his failure
to ask the question ; but he retained the palpably magic
4mport of the act as affecting the sick Anfortas. It was
hard that the omission should have brought Parzival to
sorrow and despair ; yet the fault was part of himself, and
the man so ignorant and unwise was sure to incur calamity,
and also gain sorrow's lessons if he was capable of learning.
So the sequence becomes ethical : from error, calamity; from
calamity, grief ; and from grief, wisdom. With Wolfram,
Parzival' s fault was Parzival ; failure to ask the question was
a symbol of his lack of wisdom. The poet was of his time ;
and mediaeval thought tended to symbolism, and to move,
^ E.g. the love-potion in the tale of Tristan.
VOL. II C
1 8 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
as it were, from symbol to symbol, and from symbolical
significance to related symbolical significance, and indeed
often to treat a symbol as if it were the fact which was
symbolized.
At this point Wolfram's poem devotes some cantos to
the lighter-hearted adventures of Gawain. This valiant,
courtly, loyal knight and his adventures are throughout a
foil to the heavier lot and character of Parzival. But when
Gawain has had his due, the poet is glad to return to his
rightful hero. Parzival has ridden through many lands ; he
has sailed many seas ; before his lance no knight has kept
his seat ; his praise and fame are spread afar. Though he
has never been overthrown, the sword given him by Anfortas
broke ; but with magic water Parzival welded it again. In
a forest one day he rode up to a hut, where Sigune was
living as a recluse, feeding her soul with thoughts of her
dead lover, barring all fancies that might disunite her from
the dead whom she still held as her husband. Parzival
recognized her, and she him, when he removed his helm :
" You are Sir Parzival — tell me, how is it with the Grail ? "
" It has given me sorrow enough ; I left a land where
I was king, a loving wife, fairest of women ; I suffer
anguish for her love, and more because of that high goal of
Munsalvaesch which is not reached. Cousin Sigune, knowing
my sorrow, you do wrong to hate me."
" My wrath is spent. You have lost joy enough since
that time you failed to question Anfortas, your host — your
happiness as well. Then that question would have blessed
you ; now joy is denied you ; your high mood halts ; your
heart is tamed by sorrow, which had stayed a stranger to it
had you asked the question."
" I acted as a luckless man. Dear cousin, counsel me —
but, say, how is it with you ? I should bemoan your grief
were not my own greater than man ever bore."
" Let His hand help you who knows all sorrow. A
path might bring you yet to Munsalvaesch. Cundrie but
now rode hence — follow her track."
Parzival started to follow the track of Cundrie's mule,
which soon was lost, and with it the Grail was lost again.
CHAP. XXV
PARZIVAL 19
Without guidance he rode on. He overthrew a Grail
knight, and took his horse, his own having been wounded
in the combat. How long he rode I know not, says the
poet. One frosty morning he met an aged knight un-
helmeted, and walking barefoot with his wife and daughters.
The knight reproved him for riding armed on that holy day.
Parzival answered : " I do not know the time of year ;
it is long since I kept count of days. Once I served Him
who is called God — until He graced me with His mockery.
He helps, men say. I have not found it so."
" If you mean God who was born of a virgin," replied
the old knight, " and believe that He took man's nature,
you do wrong to ride in armour ; for this is the day when
He hung on the Cross for us. Sir, not far from here dwells
a holy man, who will give you counsel ; you may repent
and be absolved from your sins."
Parzival courteously took his leave. He had regarded
his failure to ask that question as a luckless error, had felt
that God was unjust to him, and had also doubted His
power to aid. Now came wavering thoughts : " What if
God might help my pain ? If He ever favoured a knight,
or if sword and shield might win His favour — if to-day is
His day of help, let Him help me if He can. If God's craft
can show the way to man and horse, I'll honour Him. Go
then according to God's choosing."
He flung the bridle on his horse's neck, spurring him
forward ; and the horse carried him straight to the hermitage
of holy Trevrizent, who fasted there to fit himself for
heaven, his chastity warring with the devil. Parzival
recognized the place where he had sworn the oath to
Orilus, to clear Jesute's honour. The hermit, seeing him,
exclaimed : " Alas ! sir, that you ride equipped in this holy
season. Were you sore pressed ? Another garb were fitter,
did your pride permit. Come by the fire. If you follow
love's adventure, think of that afterward, and this day seek
the love which this day gives."
Dismounting, Parzival stood respectfully before the
hermit : " Sir, advise me ; I am a man of sin,"
His host promised counsel and asked how he came
there. Parzival told of meeting the old knight, and inquired
20 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
whether his host felt no fear at seeing him ride up. " Believe
me, no," answered the hermit ; "I fear no man. I would
not boast, but in my day my heart never quailed in the fight.
I was a knight as you are, and had many sinful thoughts."
Having placed the horse in shelter beneath a cliff, the
hermit led the knight into his cell. There was a fire of
coals, before which Parzival was glad to warm himself and
exchange his steel armour for a cloak ; he seemed forest-
weary. A door opened to an inner cell, where stood an
altar, bearing the very reliquary on which Parzival had laid
his hand in making oath. He told his host of this, and of
the lance which he had found there and taken. " A friend
of mine left it there, and chided with me afterwards. It is
four years, six months, and three days since you took that
spear ; I will prove it to you from this Psalter."
" I did not know how long I had journeyed, lost and
unhappy. I carry sorrow's weight. Sir, I will tell you
more : from that time no man has seen me in church or
minster, where they honour God. I have sought battles
only. I also bear a hate for God. He is my trouble's
sponsor : had He borne aid, my joy had not been buried
living ! My heart is sore. In reward of my many fights,
sorrow has set on me a crown — of thorns. I bear a grudge
against that Lord of aid, that me alone He helps not."
The host sighed, and looked at him ; then spoke : " Sir,
be wise. You should trust God well. He will help you,
it is His office ; He must help us both. Tell me with sober
wits, how did your anger against Him arise ? Learn from
me His guiltlessness before you accuse Him. His aid is
never withheld. Even I, a layman, can read the meaning
of those unlying books ; man must continue steadfast in
service of Him who never wearies in His steady. aid to
sinking souls. Keep troth, for God is troth. Deceit is
hateful to Him. We should be grateful ; in our behalf His
nobility took on the form of man. God is called, and is,
truth. He can turn from no one ; teach your thoughts
never to turn from Him. You can force nothing from Him
with your wrath. Whoever sees you carry hate toward
Him will deem you sick of wit. Think of Lucifer and all
his comrades. Hell was their reward. When Lucifer and
CHAP. XXV PARZIVAL 21
his host had taken their hell- journey, a man was made.
God made from clay the worthy Adam. From Adam's
flesh He took Eve, who brought us calamity when she
listened not to her Creator, and destroyed our joy. Two
sons were born to them. One of these in envious anger
destroyed his grandmother's maidenhood, by sin."
" Sir, how could that be ? "
" The earth was Adam's mother, and was a maiden.
Adam was Cain's father, who slew Abel ; and the blood fell
on the pure earth ; its maidenhood was sped. Thence arose
hate among men — and still endures. Nothing in the world
is as pure as an innocent maid ; God was himself a maiden's
child, and took the image of the first maid's fruit. With
Adam's seed came sorrow and joy ; through him our lineage
is from God, but through him, too, we carry sin, for which
God took man's image, and so suffered, battling with troth
against untroth. Turn to Him if you would not be lost.
Plato, Sibyl the prophetess, foretold Him. With divine
love His mighty hand plucked us from hell. The joyful
news they tell of Him the True Lover is this : He is radiant
light, and wavers not in His love. Men may have either
His love or hate. The unrepentant sinner flees the divine
faithfulness ; he who does penance wins his clemency. God
penetrates thought, which is hidden to the sun's rays and
needs no castle's ward. Yet God's light passes its dark
wall, comes stealing in, and noiselessly departs. No thought
so quick but He discovers it before it leaves the heart. The
pure in heart He chooses. Woe to the man who harbours
evil. What help is there in human craft for him whose
deeds put God to shame ? You are lost if you act in His
despite, who is prepared for either love or hate. Now
change your heart ; with goodness earn His thanks."
" Sir," says Parzival, " I am glad to be taught by you of
Him who does not fail to reward both crime and virtue.
With pain and struggle I have so borne my young life to
this day that through keeping troth I have got sorrow."
Parzival still feels his innocence ; perhaps the host is
not so sure : " Prithee, be open with me. I would gladly
hear your troubles and your sins. May be I can advise
you."
22 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
" The Grail is my chief woe and then my wife — she is
beyond compare. For both of these I yearn."
" Sir, you say well. Your grief is righteous if its cause
is yearning for your wife. If you were cast to hell for other
sins, but loyal to your wife, God's hand would lift you out.
As for the Grail, you foolish man, pursuit will never win it,
'Tis for him only who is named in heaven. I can say ; for
I have seen it."
" Sir, were you there ? "
" I was."
Parzival did not say that he had been there too ; but
asked about the Grail. His host then told him of the
valiant Templars who dwelt on Munsalvaesch, and rode
thence on adventures as penance for their sins. " They are
nourished by a Stone of marvellous virtue ; no sick man
seeing it could die that week ; it gives youth and strength,
and is called the Grail. To-day, as on every Good Friday,
a dove flies from heaven and lays a wafer on the Grail,
from which the Grail receives its share of every food and
every good the earth or Paradise affords. The name of
whosoever is chosen for the Grail, be it boy or girl, appears
inscribed upon it, suddenly, and when read disappears.
They come as children ; glad the mother whose child is
named ; for taken to that company, it will be held from sin
and shame, and be received in heaven when this life is past.
Further, all those who took neither side in the war between
Lucifer and the Trinity, were cast out of heaven to earth,
and here must serve the Grail."
Parzival spoke : "If knighthood might with shield and
spear win earth's prize and Paradise for the soul — why I
have fought wherever I found fight ; often my hand has
touched the prize. If God is wise in conflicts. He should
name me, that those people there may learn to know me.
My hand never drew back."
" First you must guard against pride, and practise
modesty." The old man paused and then continued :
" There was a Grail king named Anfortas. You and I
should pity his sad lot which befell him through pride in
youth and riches ; he loved in the world's light way — that
also goes not with the Grail, There came once to the castle
CHAP. XXV
PARZIVAL 23
one unnamed, a simple man ; he went away, his sins upon
his head ; he never asked the host what ailed him.
Before that time a prince, Lahelein, approached and fought
with a Grail knight, and slew him and took his horse. Sir,
are you Lahelein ? you rode a Grail steed hither. I know
his trappings well, and the dove's crest which Anfortas gave
his knights. The old Titurel also wore that crest, and
after him his son Frimutel, till he lost his life. Sir, you
resemble him. Who are you ? "
Each looked on the other. Parzival spoke : " My father
was a knight. He lost his life in combat ; sir, include him
in your prayers. His name was Gamuhret. I am not
Lahelein ; yet in my folly once I too robbed the dead. My
sinful hand slew Ither. I left him dead upon the sward —
and took what was to take."
" O world ! alas for thee ! heart's sorrow is thy pay ! "
the hermit cried. " My nephew, it was your own flesh and
blood you slew ; a deed which with God merits death.
Ither, the pattern of all knights — how can you atone ? My
sister too, your mother Herzeloide, you brought her to her
death."
" Oh no ! good sir, how say you that ? If I am your
sister's child, oh tell me all."
" Your mother died when you left her. My other sister
was Sigune's mother ; our brother is Anfortas, who long
has been the Grail's sad lord. We early lost our father,
Frimutel ; from him Anfortas, his first-born, inherited the
Grail crown, when still a child. As he grew a man, all too
eagerly he followed the service set by love of woman, chose
him a mistress and broke many a spear for her. He
disobeyed the Grail, which forbids its lords love's service,
save as it prescribes. One day, for his lady's favour, he ran
a joust with a heathen knight. He slew him, but the
heathen spear struck him, and broke, leaving a poisoned
wound. In anguish he returned. No medicine or charm
can heal that wound, and yet he cannot die ; that is the
Grail's power. I renounced knighthood, flesh, and wine, in
prayer that God would heal him. We knelt before the
Grail, and on it read that when a knight should come, and,
unadmonished, ask what ailed him, he should be sound
24 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
again. That knight should then be the Grail's king, in place
of Anfortas. Since then a knight did come — I spoke of him
to you. He might as well have stayed away for all the honour
that he won or aid he brought us. He did not ask : My lord,
what brought you to this pass ? Stupidity forbade him,"
The two made moan together. It was noon. The host
said : " Let us take food now, and tend your horse." They
went out ; Parzival broke up some branches for his horse,
while the host gathered a repast of herbs. Then they
returned to the cell. " Dear nephew," said the hermit, " do
not despise this food. At least, you will not find another
host who would more gladly give you better."
" Sir, may God's favour pass me by, if ever a host's care
was sweeter to me."
When they had eaten, they saw to the horse again,
whose hungry plight grieved the old man because of the
saddle with Anfortas' s crest. Then Parzival spoke :
" Lord and uncle mine, if I dare speak for shame, I
should tell you all my unhappiness. My troth takes refuge
in you. My misdeeds are so sore, that if you cast me off I
shall go all my days unloosed from my remorse. Take pity
with good counsel on a fool. He who rode to Munsalvaesch,
and saw that pain, and asked no question, that was I, mis-
fortune's child. Thus have I, sir, misdone."
" Nephew ! Alas ! We both may well lament — ^where
were your five senses ? Yet I will not refuse thee counsel.
You must not grieve overmuch, but, in lament and laying
grief aside, follow right measure. Would that I might
refresh and hearten you, so that you would push on, and not
despair of God. You might still cure your sorrow. God
will not forsake you. I counsel thee from Him."
His host then told Parzival more about Anfortas' s pains,
and about the Grail people, then the story of his own life
before he renounced knighthood, and also about Ither.
" Ither was your kin. If your hand forgot this kinship,
God will not. You must do penance for this deadly sin, and
also for your mother's death. Repent of your misdeeds and
think of death, so that your labour here below may bring
peace to your soul above."
These two deadly sins of Parzival were done unwittingly,
CHAP. XXV PARZIVAL 2 5
and unwitting was his neglect to ask the question. His
guilt was thoughtlessness and stupid ignorance. It is im-
possible not to think of Oedipus, and compare the Christian
mediaeval treatment of unwitting crimes with the classical
Greek consideration of the same dark subject. Oedipus
sinned as unwittingly as Parzival, and as impulsively. His
ruin was complete. Afterwards — ^in the Oedipus Coloneus
— ^his character gathers greatness through submission to the
necessary consequences of his acts ; this was his spiritual
expiation. On the other hand, mercy, repentance, hope, the
uplifting of the unwitting sinner, forgiveness and consolation,
soften and glorify the Christian mediaeval story.
Parzival stayed some days at the hermitage. At parting
the hermit spoke words of comfort to him : " Leave me your
sins. I will be your surety with God for your repentance.
Perform what I have bidden you, and do not waver."
The story here turns to Gawain. In the tale of his
adventures there comes a glimpse of Parzival. A proud
lady, for whose love Gawain is doing perilous deeds, tells
him she has never met a man she could not bend to her will
and love, save only one. That one came and overthrew her
knights. She offered him her land and her fair self ; his
answer put her to shame : " The glorious Queen of Pelrapeire
is my wife, and I am Parzival. I will have none of your
love. The Grail gives me other care."
Gawain won this lady, and conducted her to Arthur's
Court, whither his rival the haughty King Gramoflanz was
summoned to do battle with him. On the morning set for
the combat Gawain rode out a little to the bank of a river,
to prove his horse and armour. There at the river rode a
knight ; Gawain deemed it was Gramoflanz. They rush
together ; man and horse go down in the joust. The
knights spring to their feet and fight on with their swords.
Meanwhile Gramoflanz, with a splendid company, has arrived
at Arthur's Court. The lists are ready ; Gramoflanz stands
armed. But where is Gawain ? He was not wont to tarry.
Squires hurry out in search, to find him just falling before
the blows of the stranger. They call, Gawain ! and the
unknown knight throws away his sword with a great cry :
"Wretched and worthless ! Accursed is my dishonoured hand.
26 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
Be mine the shame. My luckless arms ever — and now again
— strike down my happiness. That I should raise my hand
against noble Gawain ! It is myself that I have overthrown."
Gawain heard him : " Alas, sir, who are you that speak
such love towards me ? Would you had spoken sooner,
before my strength and praise had left me."
" Cousin, I am your cousin, ready to serve you, Parzival."
" Then you said true ! This fool's fight of two hearts
that love ! Your hand has overthrown us both."
Gawain could no longer stand. Fainting they laid him
on the grass. Gramoflanz rides up, and is grieved to find
his rival in no condition to fight. Parzival offers to take
Gawain' s place ; but Gramoflanz declines, and the combat is
postponed till the morrow. Parzival is then escorted to
Arthur's Court, where Gawain would have him meet fair
ladies ; he holds back, thinking of the shame once put on
him there by Cundrie. Gawain insists, and ladies greet the
knight. Arthur again makes Parzival one of the Round
Table. Early the next morning, Parzival, changing his arms,
meets Gramoflanz in the lists, before Gawain has arrived ;
and vanquishes him. Then comes Gawain and offers to
postpone the combat as Gramoflanz had done. So the
combat is again set for the next day. In the meanwhile,
however, various matters come to light and explanations are
had ; Arthur succeeds in reconciling the rival knights and
adjusting their relations to the ladies. So the Court becomes
gay with wedding festivals, and all is joy.
Except with Parzival. His heart is torn with pain and
yearning for his wife. He muses : " Since I could love, how
has love dealt with me ! I was born from love ; why have
I lost love ? I must seek the Grail ; yet how I yearn for
the sweet arms of her from whom I parted — so long ago !
It is not fit that I should look on this joyful festival with
anguish in my heart." There lay his armour : " Since I
have no part in this joy, and God wills none for me ; and
the love of Condwiramurs banishes all wish for other
happiness — now God grant happiness to all this company.
I will go forth." He put his armour on, saddled his horse,
took spear and shield, and fled from the joyous Court, as the
day was dawning.
CHAP. XXV PARZIVAL 27
And now he meets a heathen knight, approaching with
a splendid following. They rode a great joust ; and the
heathen wondered to find a knight abide his lance. They
fought with swords together, till their horses were blown ;
they sprang on the ground, and there fought on. Then the
heathen thought of his queen ; the love-thought brought him
strength, and he struck Parzival a blow that brought him to
his knee. Now rouse thee, Parzival ; why dost thou not
think on thy wife ? Suddenly he thought of her, and how he
won her love, vanquishing Clamide before Pelrapeire. Straight
her aid came to him across four kingdoms, and he struck
the heathen down ; but his sword — once Ither's — ^broke.
The foolish evil deed of Parzival in slaying Ither seems
atoned for in the breaking of this sword. Had it not broken,
great evil had been done. The great-hearted heathen
sprang up. " Hero, you would have conquered had that
sword not broken. Be peace between us while we rest."
They sat together on the grass. " Tell me your name,"
said the heathen ; "I have never met as great a knight."
" Is it through fear, that I should tell my name ? "
" Nay, I will name myself — Feirefiz of Anjou."
" How of Anjou ? that is my heritage. Yet I have
heard I had a brother. Let me see your face. I will not
attack you with your helmet off."
" Attack me ? it is I that hold the sword ; but let neither
have the vantage." He threw his sword far from them.
With joy and tears the brothers recognized each other ;
and long and loving was their speech. Then they rode
back together to the Court. They entered Gawain's tent.
Arthur came to greet them, and with him many knights. At
Arthur's request each of the great brothers told the long list
of his knightly victories. The next day Feirefiz was made
a knight of the Round Table, and a grand tournament was
held. Then the feast followed ; and again, as once before,
to the great company seated at the table, Cundrie came
riding. She greeted the king ; then turned to Parzival, and
in tears threw herself at his feet and begged a greeting and
forgiveness. Parzival forgives her. She rises up and cries :
" Hail to thee, son of Gahmuret — Herzeloide's child.
Humble thyself in gladness. The high lot is thine, thou
28 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
cfown of human blessing. Thou shalt be the Grail's lord ;
with thee thy wife Condwiramurs, and thy sons Lohengrin
and Kardeiz, whom she bore to thee after thy going. Thy
mouth shall question Anfortas — unto his joy. Now the
planets favour thee ; thy grief is spent. The Grail and the
Grail's power shall let thee have no part in evil. When
young, thou didst get thee sorrow, which betrayed thy joy
as it came ; — thou hast won thy soul's peace, and in sorrow
thou hast endured unto thy life's joy."
Tears of love sprang from Parzival's heart and fell from
his eyes : " Lady, if this be true, that God's grace has granted
me, sinful man, to have my children and my wife, God has
been good to me. Loyally would you make good my losses.
Before, had I not done amiss, you would not have been angry.
At that time I was yet unblessed. Now tell me, when and
how I shall go meet my joy. Oh ! let me not be stayed ! "
There was no more delay. Parzival was permitted to
take one comrade ; he chose Feirefiz. Cundrie guided them
to the Grail castle. They entered to find Anfortas calling
on death to free him of his pain. Weeping, and with prayer
to God, Parzival asked what ailed him, and the king was
healed. Then Parzival rode' again to Trevrizent. The
hermit breaks out in wonder at the power of God, which
man cannot comprehend ; let Parzival obey Him and keep
from evil ; that any one should win the Grail by striving
was unheard of ; now this has come to Parzival, let him be
humble. The hero yearns for his wife — where is she ? He
is told ; there by the meadow where he once saw the drops
of blood he finds her and his sons, asleep in their tent.
They are united ; Parzival is made Grail king ; and the
queen Repanse is given in marriage to Feirefiz, who is
baptized and departs with her. Lohengrin is named as
Parzival's successor, while Kardeiz receives the kingdoms
which had been Gahmuret's and Herzeloide's.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE HEART OF HELOISE
The romantic growth and imaginative shaping of chivalric
love having been followed in the fortunes of its great
exemplars, Tristan, Iseult, Lancelot, Guinevere, Parzival, a
different illustration of mediaeval passion may be had by
turning from these creations of literature to an actual
woman, whose love for a living man was thought out as
keenly and as tragically felt as any heart-break of imagined
lovers, and was impressed with as entire a self -surrender as
ever ravished the soul of nun panting with love of the
God-man.
There has never been a passion between a man and
woman more famous than that which brought happiness
and sorrow to the lives of Abaelard and Heloise. Here
fame is just. It was a great love, and its course was a
perfect soul's tragedy. Abaelard was a celebrity, the
intellectual glory of an active-minded epoch. His love-
story has done as much for his posthumous fame as all his
intellectual activities. Heloise became known in her time
through her relations with Abaelard ; in his songs her name
was wafted far. She has come down to us as one of the
world's love-heroines. Yet few of those who have been
touched by her story have known that Heloise was a great
woman, possessed of an admirable mind, a character which
proved its strength through years, and, above all, a capacity
for loving — for loving out to the full conclusions of love's
convictions, and for feeling in their full range and power
whatever moods and emotions could arise from an unhappy
situation and a passion as deeply felt as it was deeply
thought upon.
29
30 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
Abaelard was not a great character — aside from his
intellect. He was vain and inconsiderate, a man who
delighted in confounding and supplanting his teachers, and
in being a thorn in the flesh of all opponents. But he
became chastened through his misfortunes and through
Heloise's high and self-sacrificing love. In the end, perhaps,
his love was worthy of the love of Heloise. Yet her love
from the beginning was nobler and deeper than his love of
her. Love was for him an incident in his experience, then
an element in his life. Love made the life of Heloise ; it
remained her all. Moreover, in the records of their passion,
Heloise's love is unveiled as Abaelard's is not. For all
these reasons, the heart of Heloise rather than the heart
of Abaelard discloses the greatness of a love that wept itself
out in the twelfth century, and it is her love rather than his
that can teach us much regarding the mediaeval capacity for
loving. Hers is a story of mediaeval womanhood, and sin,
and repentance perhaps, with peace at last, or at least the
lips shut close and further protest foregone.
Abaelard's stormy intellectual career ^ and the story
of the love between him and the canon's niece are well
known. Let us follow him in those parts of his narrative
which disclose the depth and power of Heloise's love for
him. We draw from his Historia calamitatum, written " to
a friend," apparently an open letter intended to circulate.
" There was," writes he, referring to the time of his
sojourn in Paris, when he was about thirty-six years old,
and at the height of his fame as a lecturer in the schools —
" There was in Paris a young girl named Heloise, the niece of
a canon, Fulbert. It was his affectionate wish that she should
have the best education in letters that could be procured. Her
face was not unfair, and her knowledge was unequalled. This
attainment, so rare in women, had given her great reputation.
" I had hitherto lived continently, but now was casting my
eyes about, and I saw that she possessed every attraction that
lovers seek ; nor did I regard my success as doubtful, when I
considered my fame and my goodly person, and also her love of
letters. Inflamed with love, I thought how I could best become
intimate with her. It occurred to me to obtain lodgings with her
1 See post, Chapter XXXVIL, i.
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOlSE 31
uncle, on the plea that household cares distracted me from study.
Friends quickly brought this about, the old man being miserly
and yet desirous of instruction for his niece. He eagerly entrusted
her to my tutorship, and begged me to give her all the time I could
take from my lectures, authorizing me to see her at any hour of
the day or night, and punish her when necessary. I marvelled
with what simplicity he confided a tender lamb to a hungry wolf.
As he had given me authority to punish her, I saw that if caresses
would not win my object, I could bend her by threats and blows.
Doubtless he was misled by love of his niece and my own good
reputation. Well, what need to say more : we were united first
by the one roof above us, and then by our hearts. Our hours of
study were given to love. The books lay open, but our words
were of love rather than philosophy, there were more kisses than
aphorisms ; and love was oftener reflected in our eyes than the
lettered page. To avert suspicion, I struck her occasionally —
very gentle blows of love. The joy of love, new to us both,
brought no satiety. The more I was taken up with this pleasure,
the less time I gave to philosophy and the schools — how tiresome
had all that become ! I became unproductive, merely repeating
my old lectures, and if I composed any verses, love was their
subject, and not the secrets of philosophy ; you know how
popular and widely sung these have become. But the students !
what groans and laments arose from them at my distraction !
A passion so plain was not to be concealed ; every one knew of
it except Fulbert. A man is often the last to know of his own
shame. Yet what everybody knows cannot be hid forever, and
so after some months he learned all. Oh how bitter was that
uncle's grief ! and what was the grief of the separated lovers !
How ashamed I was, and afflicted at the affliction of the girl !
And what a storm of sorrow came over her at my disgrace.
Neither complained for himself, but each grieved at what the
other must endure."
Although Abaelard was moved at the plight of Heloise,
he bitterly felt his own discomfiture in the eyes of the once
admiring world. But the sentence touching Heloise is a
first true note of her devoted love : what a storm of sorrow
{moeroris aestus) came over her at my disgrace. Through
this trouble and woe, Heloise never thought of her own pain
save as it pained her to be the source of grief to Abaelard.
Abaelard continues :
" The separation of our bodies joined our souls more closely
and inflamed our love. Shame spent itself and made us un-
ashamed, so small a thing it seemed compared with satisfying
32 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
love. Not long afterwards the girl knew that she was to be a
mother, and in the greatest exultation wrote and asked me to
advise what she should do. One night, as we agreed on, when
Fulbert was away I bore her off secretly and sent her to my own
country, Brittany, where she stayed with my sister till she gave
birth to a son, whom she named Astralabius.
" The uncle, on his return to his empty house, was frantic.
He did not know what to do to me. If he should kill or do me
some bodily injury, he feared lest his niece, whom he loved, would
suffer for it among my people in Brittany. He could not seize
me, as I was prepared against all attempts. At length, pitying
his anguish, and feeling remorse at having caused it, I went to him
as a suppliant and promised whatever satisfaction he should
demand. I assured him that nothing in my conduct would seem
remarkable to any one who had felt the strength of love or would
take the pains to recall how many of the greatest men had been
thrown down by women, ever since the world began. Where-
upon I offered him a satisfaction greater than he could have
hoped, to wit, that I would marry her whom I had corrupted, if
only the marriage might be kept secret so that it should not injure
me in the minds of men. He agreed and pledged his faith, and
the faith of his friends, and sealed with kisses the reconciliation
which I had sought — so that he might more easily betray me ! "
It will be remembered that Abaelard was a clerk, a
clericus, in virtue of his profession of letters and theology.
Never having taken orders, he could marry ; but while a
clerk's slip could be forgotten, marriage might lead people
to think he had slighted his vocation, and would certainly
bar the ecclesiastical preferment which such a famous clericus
might naturally look forward to. Nevertheless, he at once
set out to fetch Heloise from Brittany, to make her his wife.
The stand which she now took shows both her mind
and heart :
" She strongly disapproved, and urged two reasons against
the marriage, to wit, the danger and the disgrace in which it
would involve me. She swore — and so it proved — that no satis-
faction would ever appease her uncle. She asked how she was
to have any glory through me when she should have made me
inglorious, and should have humiliated both herself and me.
What penalties would the world exact from her if she deprived it
of such a luminary ; what curses, what damage to the Church,
what lamentations of philosophers, would follow on this marriage.
How indecent, how lamentable would it be for a man whom nature
had made for all, to declare that he belonged to one woman, and
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOISE 33
subject himself to such shame. From her soul, she detested this
marriage which would be so utterly ignominious for me, and a
burden to me. She expatiated on the disgrace and inconvenience
of matrimony for me and quoted the Apostle Paul exhorting men
to shun it. If I would not take the apostle's advice or Usten to
what the saints had said regarding the matrimonial yoke, I should
at least pay attention to the philosophers — to Theophrastus's
words upon the intolerable evils of marriage, and to the refusal of
Cicero to take a wife after he had divorced Terentia, when he said
that he could not devote himself to a wife and philosophy at the
same time. ' Or,' she continued, ' laying aside the disaccord
between study and a wife, consider what a married man's
establishment would be to you. What sweet accord there would
be between the schools and domestics, between copjdsts and
cradles, between books and distaffs, between pen and spindle !
Who, engaged in religious or philosophical meditations, could
endure a baby's crying and the nurse's ditties stilling it, and all
the noise of servants ? Could you put up with the dirty ways of
children ? The rich can, you say, with their palaces and apart-
ments of all kinds ; their wealth does not feel the expense or the
daily care and annoyance. But I say, the state of the rich is not
that of philosophers ; nor have men entangled in riches and affairs
any time for the study of Scripture or philosophy. The renowned
philosophers of old, despising the world, fleeing rather than
relinquishing it, forbade themselves all pleasures, and reposed in
the embraces of philosophy.' "
Speaking thus, Heloise fortified her argument with
quotations from Seneca, and the examples of Jewish and
Gentile worthies and Christian saints, and continued :
" It is not for me to point out — for I would not be thought to
instruct Minerva — how soberly and continently all these men lived
who, according to Augustine and others, were called philosophers
as much for their way of life as for their knowledge. If laymen
and Gentiles, bound by no profession of rehgion, lived thus, surely
you, a clerk and canon, should not prefer low pleasures to sacred
duties, nor let yourself be sucked down by this Charybdis and
smothered in filth inextricably. If you do not value the privilege
of a clerk, at least defend the dignity of a philosopher. If
reverence for God be despised, still let love of decency temper
immodesty. Remember, Socrates was tied to a wife, and through
a nasty accident wiped out this blot upon philosophy, that others
afterwards might be more cautious ; which Jerome relates in his
book against Jovinianus, how once when enduring a storm of
Xanthippe's clamours from the floor above, he was ducked with
slops, and simply said, ' I knew such thunder would bring rain.'
VOL, II D
34 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
" Finally she said that it would be dangerous for me to take
her back to Paris ; it was more becoming to me, and sweeter to
her, to be called my mistress, so that affection alone might keep
me hers and not the binding power of any matrimonial chain ;
and if we should be separated for a time, our joys at meeting
would be the dearer for their rarity. When at last with all her
persuasions and dissuasions she could not turn me from my folly,
and could not bear to offend me, with a burst of tears she ended
in these words : ' One thing is left : in the ruin of us both the
grief which follows shall not be less than the love which went
before.' Nor did she here lack the spirit of prophecy."
Heloise's reasonings show love great and true and her
absolute devotion to Abaelard's interests. None the less
striking is her clear intelligence. She reasoned correctly ;
she was right, the marriage would do great harm to Abaelard
and little good to her. We see this too, if we lay aside our
sense of the ennobling purity of marriage — a sentiment not
commonly felt in the twelfth century. Marriage was holy
in the mind of Christ. But it did not preserve its holiness
through the centuries which saw the rise of monasticism and
priestly celibacy. A way of life is not pure and holy when
another way is holier and purer ; this is peculiarly true
in Christianity, which demands the ideal best with such
intensity as to cast reflection on whatever falls below the
highest standard. From the time of the barbarian inroads,
on through the Carolingian periods, and into the later
Middle Ages, there was enough barbarism and brutality to
prevent the preservation, or impede the development, of a
high standard of marriage. Not monasticism, but his own
half-barbarian, lustful heart led Charlemagne to marry and
remarry at will, and have many mistresses besides. It was
the same with the countless barons and mediaeval kings,
rude and half civilized. This was barbarous lust, not due
to the influence of monasticism. But, on the other hand,
it was always the virgin or celibate state that the Church
held before the eyes of all this semi-barbarous laity as the
ideal for a Christian man or woman. The Church sanctioned
marriage, but hardly lauded it or held it up as a condition
in which lives of holiness and purity could be led. Such
were the sentiments in which Heloise was born and bred.
They were subconscious factors in her thoughts regarding
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOISE 35
herself and her lover. Devoted and unselfish was her love ;
undoubtedly Heloise would have sacrificed herself for
Abaelard under any social conditions. Nevertheless, with
her, marriage added little to love ; it was a mere formal
and binding authorization ; love was no purer for it. To
her mind, for a man in Abaelard' s situation to be entangled
in a temporary amour was better than to be chained to his
passion, with his career irrevocably ruined, in marriage. In
so far as her thoughts or Abaelard's were influenced by the
environment of priestly thinking, marriage would seem a
rendering permanent of a passionate and sinful state, which
it were best to cast off altogether. For herself, as she said
truly, the marriage would bring obloquy rather than re-
instatement. She had been mistress to a clerk ; marriage
would make her the partner of his abandonment of his
vocation, the accomplice of broken purposes if not of broken
vows. And finally, as there was then no line of disgrace as
now between bastard and lawful issue, Heloise had no
thought that the interests of her son demanded that his
mother should become his father's wife.
" Leaving our son in my sister's care, we stole back to Paris,
and shortly after, having in the night celebrated our vigils in a
certain church, we were married at dawn in the presence of her
uncle and some of his and our friends. We left at once separately
and with secrecy, and afterwards saw each other only in privacy,
so as to conceal what we had done. But her uncle and his house-
hold began at once to announce the marriage and violate his word ;
while she, on the contrary, protested vehemently and swore that it
was false. At that he became enraged and treated her vilely.
When I discovered this I sent her to the convent of Argenteuil,
near Paris, where she had been educated. There I had her take
the garb of a nun, except the veil. Hearing this, the uncle and his
relations thought that I had duped them, ridding myself of Heloise
by making her a nun. So having bribed my servant, they came
upon me by night, when I was sleeping, and took on me a
vengeance as cruel and irretrievable as it was vile and shameful.
Two of the perpetrators were pursued and vengeance taken.
" In the morning the whole town was assembled, crying and
lamenting my plight, especially the clerks and students ; at which
I was afflicted with more shame than I suffered physical pain. I
thought of my ruined hopes and glory, and then saw that by God's
just judgment I was punished where I had most sinned, and that
36 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
Fulbert had justly avenged treachery with treachery. But what
a figure I should cut in public ! how the world would point its
finger at me ! I was also confounded at the thought of the
Levitical law, according to which I had become an abomination
to the Church.^ In this misery the confusion of shame — I confess
it — rather than the ardour of conversion drove me to the cover of
the cloister, after she had willingly obeyed my command to take
the veil. I became a monk in the abbey of St. Denis, and she a
nun in the convent of Argenteuil. Many begged her not to set
that yoke upon her youth ; at which, amid her tears, she broke -
out in Cornelia's lament : ' O great husband ! undeserving of my
couch ! Has fortune rights over a head so high ? Why did I,
impious, marry thee to make thee wretched ? Accept these
penalties, which I gladly pay.' ^ With these words, she went
straight to the altar, received the veil blessed by the bishop, and
took the vows before them all."
Abaelard's Historia calamitatum now turns to troubles
having no connection with Heloise : his difficulties with the
monks of St. Denis, with other monks, with every one, in
fact, except his scholars ; his arraignment before the Council
of Soissons, the public burning of his book, De JJnitate et
Tfinitate divina, and various other troubles, till, seeking a
retreat, he constructed an oratory on the bank of the
Ardisson. He named it the Paraclete, and there he taught
and lectured. He was afterwards elected abbot of a
monastery in Brittany, where he discovered that those under
him were savage beasts rather than monks. Here the
Historia calamitatum was written.
The monks of St. Denis had never ceased to hate
Abaelard for his assertion that their great Saint was not
really Dionysius the Areopagite who heard Paul preach.
Their abbot now brought forward and proved an ancient
title to the land where stood the convent of Argenteuil, " in
which," to resume Abaelard's account,
" she, once my wife, now my sister in Christ, had taken the veil,
and was at this time prioress. The nuns were rudely driven out.
News of this came to me as a suggestion from the Lord to bethink
me of the deserted Paraclete. Going thither, I invited Heloise and
her nuns to come and take possession. They accepted, and I gave
it to them. Afterward Pope Innocent 11. confirmed this grant to
them and their successors in perpetuity. There for a time they
1 Lev, xxi, 20 ; Deut. xxiii. i. ^ Lucan, Pharsalia, viii. 94.
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOISE 37
lived in want ; but soon the Divine Pity showed itself the true
Paraclete, and moved the people of the neighbourhood to take
compassion on them, and they soon knew no lack. Indeed as
women are the weaker sex, their need moves men more readily to
pity, and their virtues are the more grateful to both God and man.
And on our sister the Lord bestowed such favour in the eyes of all,
that the bishops loved her as a daughter, the abbots as a sister, the
laity as a mother ; and all wondered at her piety, her wisdom, and
her gentle patience in everything. She rarely let herself be seen,
that she might devote herself more wholly to prayers and medita-
tions in her cell ; but all the more persistently people sought her
spiritual counsel."
What were those meditations and those prayers uttered
or unuttered in that cell ? They did not always refer to the
kingdom of heaven, judging from the abbess's first letter to
her former lover. After the installation of Heloise and her
nuns, Abaelard rarely visited the Paraclete, although his
advice and instruction was desired there. His visits gave
rise to too much scandal. In the course of time, however,
the Historia calamitatum came into the hands of Heloise,
and occasioned this letter, which seems to issue forth out of
a long silence ; ten years had passed since she became a
nun. The superscription is as follows :
" To her master, rather to a father, to her husband, rather to a
brother, his maid or rather daughter, his wife or rather sister, to
Abaelard, Heloise.
" Your letter, beloved, written to comfort a friend, chanced
recently to reach me. Seeing by its first Hues from whom it was, I
burned to read it for the love I bear the writer, hoping also from
its words to recreate an image of him whose life I have ruined.
Those words dropped gall and absinthe as they brought back the
unhappy story of our intercourse and thy ceaseless crosses, my
only one. Truly the letter must have convinced the friend that
his troubles were Mght compared with yours, as you showed the
treachery and persecutions which had followed you, the calumnies
of enemies and the burning of your glorious book, the machina-
tions of false brothers, and the vile acts of those worthless monks
whom you call your sons. No one could read it with dry eyes.
Your perils have renewed my griefs ; here we all despair of your
life and each day with trembling hearts expect news of your death.
In the name of Christ, who so far has somehow preserved thee for
himself, deign with frequent letters to let these weak servants of
Him and thee know of the storms overwhelming the swimmer, so
38 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
that we who alone remain to thee may be participators of thy pain
or joy. One who grieves may gain consolation from those grieving
with him ; a burden borne by many is more lightly borne. And
if this tempest abates, how happy shall we be to know it. What-
ever the letters may contain they will show at least that we are not
forgotten. Has not Seneca said in his letter to Lucilius, that the
letters of an absent friend are sweet ? When no malice can stop
your giving us this much of you, do not let neglect prove a bar.
" You have written that long letter to console a friend with
the story of your own misfortunes, and have thereby roused our
grief and added to our desolation. Heal these new wounds.
You owe to us a deeper debt of friendship than to him, for we are
not only friends, but friends the dearest, and your daughters.
After God, you alone are the founder of this place, the builder of
this oratory and of this congregation. This new plantation for a
holy purpose is your own ; the delicate plants need frequent
watering. He who gives so much to his enemies, should consider
his daughters. Or, leaving out the others here, think how this is
owing me from thee : what thou owest to all women under vows,
thou shalt pay more devotedly to thine only one. How many
books have the holy fathers written for holy women, for their
exhortation and instruction ! I marvel at thy forgetfulness of
these frail beginnings of our conversion. Neither respect of God
nor love of us nor the example of the blessed fathers, has led thee
by speech or letter to console me, cast about, and consumed with
grief. This obligation was the stronger, because the sacrament
of marriage joined thee to me, and I — every one sees it — cling to
thee with unmeasured love.
" Dearest, thou knowest — who knows not ? — how much I lost
in thee, and that an infamous act of treachery robbed me of thee
and of myself at once. The greater my grief, the greater need of
consolation, not from another but from thee, that thou who art
alone my cause of grief may be alone my consolation. It is thou
alone that canst sadden me or gladden me or comfort me. And
thou alone owest this to me, especially since I have done thy will
so utterly that, unable to offend thee, I endured to wreck myself
at thy command. Nay, more than this, love turned to madness
and cut itself off from hope of that which alone it sought, when I
obediently changed my garb and my heart too in order that I
might prove thee sole owner of my body as well as of my spirit.
God knows, I have ever sought in thee only thyself, desiring simply
thee and not what was thine. I asked no matrimonial contract,
I looked for no dowry ; not my pleasure, not my will, but thine
have I striven to fulfil. And if the name of wife seemed holier or
more potent, the word mistress {arnica) was always sweeter to me,
or even — ^be not angry ! — concubine or harlot ; for the more I
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOlSE 39
lowered myself before thee, the more I hoped to gain thy favour,
and the less I should hurt the glory of thy renown. This thou
didst graciously remember, when condescending to point out in
that letter to a friend some of the reasons (but not all !) why I
preferred love to wedlock and hberty to a chain. I call God to
witness that if Augustus, the master of the. world, would honour
me with marriage and invest me with equal rule, it would
still seem to me dearer and more honourable to be called thy
strumpet than his empress. He who is rich and powerful is not
the better man : that is a matter of fortune, this of merit. And
she is venal who marries a rich man sooner than a poor man, and
yearns for a husband's riches rather than himself. Such a woman
deserves pay and not affection. She is not seeking the man but
his goods, and would wish, if possible, to prostitute herself to one
still richer, Aspasia put this clearly when she was trying to effect
a reconcihation between Xenophon and his wife : ' Until you
come to think that there is nowhere else a better man or a woman
more desirable, you will be continually looking for what you think
to be the best, and will wish to be married to the man or woman
who is the very best.' This is indeed a holy, rather than a philo-
sophical sentiment, and wisdom, not philosophy, speaks. This is
the holy error and blessed deception between man and wife, when
affection perfect and unimpaired keeps marriage inviolate not so
much by continency of body as by chastity of mind. But what
with other women is an error, is, in my case, the manifest truth :
since what they suppose in their husbands, I — and the whole world
agrees — know to be in thee. My love for thee is truth, being free
from all error. Who among kings or philosophers can vie with
your fame ? What country, what city does not thirst to see you ?
Who, I ask, did not hurry to see you appearing in pubHc and crane
his neck to catch a last glimpse as you departed ? What wife,
what maid did not yearn for you absent, and burn when you were
present ? What queen did not envy me my joys and couch ?
There were in you two qualities by which you could draw the soul
of any woman, the gift of poetry and the gift of singing, gifts which
other philosophers have lacked. As a distraction from labour,
you composed love-songs both in metre and in rhyme, which for
their sweet sentiment and music have been sung and resung and
have kept your name in every mouth. Your sweet melodies do
not permit even the ilhterate to forget you. Because of these
gifts women sighed for your love. And, as these songs sung of our
loves, they quickly spread my name in many lands, and made me
the envy of my sex. What excellence of mind or body did not
adorn your youth ? No woman, then envious, but now would
pity me bereft of such delights. What enemy even would not
now be softened by the compassion due me ?
40 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
" I have brought thee evil, thou knowest how innocently.
Not the result of the act but the disposition of the doer makes
the crime ; justice does not consider what happens, but through
what intent it happens. My intent towards thee thou only hast
proved and alone canst judge. I commit everything to thy
weighing and submit to thy decree.
" Tell me one thing : why, after our conversion, commanded
by thee, did I drop into oblivion, to be no more refreshed by
speech of thine or letter ? Tell me, I say, if you can, or I will
say what I feel and what every one suspects : desire rather than
friendship drew you to me, lust rather than love. So when
desire ceased, whatever you were manifesting for its sake like-
wise vanished. This, beloved, is not so much my opinion as the
opinion of all. Would it were only mine and that thy love
might find defenders to argue away my pain. Would that I
could invent some reason to excuse you and also cover my cheap-
ness. Listen, I beg, to what I ask, and it will seem small and
very easy to you. Since I am cheated of your presence, at least
put vows in words, of which you have a store, and so keep before
me the sweetness of thine image. I shall vainly expect you to
be bountiful in acts if I find you a miser in words. Truly I
thought that I merited much from you, when I had done all for
your sake and still continue in obedience. When little more
than a girl I took the hard vows of a nun, not from piety but at
your command. If I merit nothing from thee, how vain I deem
my labour ! I can expect no reward from God, as I have done
nothing from love of Him. Thee hurrying to God I followed, or
rather went before. For, as you remembered how Lot's wife
turned back, you first delivered me to God bound with the vow,
and then yourself. That single act of distrust, I confess, grieved
me and made me blush. God knows, at your command I would
have followed or preceded you to fiery places. For my heart is
not with me, but with thee ; and now more than ever, if not with
thee it is nowhere, for it cannot exist without thee. That my
heart may be well with thee, see to it, I beg ; and it will be weU
if it finds thee kind, rendering grace for grace — a little for much.
Beloved, would that thy love were less sure of me so that it
might be more solicitous ; I have made you so secure that you
are negligent. Remember all I have done and think what you
owe. While I enjoyed carnal joy with you, many people
were uncertain whether I acted from love or lust. Now the end
makes clear the beginning ; I have cut myself off from pleasure
to obey thy will, I have kept nothing, save to be more than
ever thine. Think how wicked it were in thee where all the
more is due to render less, nothing almost ; especially when
Httle is asked, and that so easy for you. In the name of God to
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOISE 41
whom you have vowed yourself, give me that of thee which is
possible, the consolation of a letter. I promise, thus refreshed,
to serve God more readily. When of old you would call me to
pleasures, you sought me with frequent letters, and never failed
with thy songs to keep thy Heloise on every tongue ; the streets,
the houses re-echoed me. How much fitter that you should now
incite me to God than then to lust ? Bethink thee what thou
owest ; heed what I ask ; and a long letter I will conclude with
a brief ending : farewell only one ! "
Remarks upon this letter would seem to profane a shrine
— had the man profaned that shrine ? He had not always
worshipped there. Heloise knew this, for all her love. She
said it too, writing in phraseology which had been brutalized
through the denouncing spirit of Latin monasticism. How
truly she puts the situation and how clearly she thinks
withal, discerning as it were the beautiful and true in love
and marriage. The whole letter is well arranged, and written
in a style showing the writer's training in Latin mediaeval
rhetoric. It was not the less deeply felt because composed
with care and skill. Evidently the writer is of the Middle
Ages ; her occasional prolixity was not of her sex but of
her time ; and she quotes the ancients so naturally ; what
they say should be convincing. How the letter bares the
motives of her own conduct : not for God's sake, or the
kingdom of heaven's sake, but for Abaelard's sake she
became a nun. She had no inclination thereto ; her letters
do not indicate that she ever became really and spontaneously
devoted to her calling. Abaelard was her God, and as her
God she held him to the end ; though she applied herself
to the consideration of religious topics, as we shall see.
Moreover, her position as nun and abbess could not fail to
force such topics on her consideration.
Is there another such love-letter, setting forth a situation
so triple-barred and hopeless ? And the love which fills the
letter, which throbs and burns in it, which speaks and argues
in it, how absolute is this love. It is love carried out to its
full conclusions ; it includes the whole woman and the whole
of her life ; whatever lies beyond its ken and care is scorned
and rejected. This love is extreme in its humility, and yet
realizes its own purity and worth ; it is grieved at the
thought of rousing a feeling baser than itself. Heloise had
42 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
been and still was Heloise, devoted and self-sacrificing in
her love. But the situation has become torture ; her heart
is filled with all manner of pain, old and new, till it is driven
to assert its right at least to consolation. Thus Heloise's
love becomes insistent and requiiing. Was it possibly
burdensome to the man who now might wish to think no
more of passion ? who might wish no longer to be loved in
that way ? In his reply Abaelard does not unveil himself ;
he seems to take an attitude which may have been the most
faithful expression that he could devise of his changed self.
" To Heloise his beloved sister in Christ, Abaelard her brother
in the Same."
This superscription was a gentle reminder of their present
relationship — in Christ. The writer begins : his not having
written since their conversion was to be ascribed not to his
negligence, but to his confidence in her wisdom ; he did not
think that she who, so full of grace, had consoled her sister
nuns when prioress, could as abbess need teaching 01*
exhortation for the guidance of her daughters ; but if, in
her humility, she felt the need of his instruction in matters
pertaining to God, she might write, and he would answer,
as the Lord should grant. Thanks be to God who had
filled their hearts — hers and her nuns — with solicitude for
his perils, and had made them participators in his afflictions ;
through their prayers the divine pity had protected him.
He had hastened to send the Psalter, requested by his sister,
formerly dear to him in the world and now most dear in
Christ, to assist their prayers. The potency of prayer, with
God and the saints, and especially the prayer of women for
those dear to them, is frequently declared in Scripture ; he
cites a number of passages to prove it. May these move
her to pray for him. He refers with affectionate gratitude
to the prayers which the nuns had been offering for him,
and encloses a short prayer for his safety, which he begs and
implores may be used in their daily canonical hours. If the
Lord, however, delivers him into the hands of his enemies
to kill him, or if he meet his death in any way, he begs that
his. body may be brought to the Paraclete for burial, so that
the sight of his sepulchre may move his daughters and
sisters in Christ to pray for him ; no place could be so safe
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOISE 43
and salutary for the soul of one bitterly repenting of his sins,
as that consecrated to the true Paraclete — the Comforter ;
nor could fitter Christian burial be found than among women
devoted by their vows to Christ, He begs that the great
solicitude which they now have for his bodily safety, they
will then have for the salvation of his soul, and by the
suffrage of their prayer for the dead man show how they
had loved him when alive. The letter closes, not with a
personal word to Heloise, but with this distich :
"Vive, vale, vivantque tuae valeantque sorores,
Vivite, sed Christo, quaeso, mei memores."
Thus as against Heloise' s beseeching love, Abaelard
lifted his hands, palms out, repelling it. His letter ignored
all that filled the soul and the letter of Heloise. His reply
did not lack words of spiritual affection, and its tone was
not as formal then as it now seems. When Abaelard asked
for the prayers of Heloise and her nuns, he meant it ; he
desired the efficacy of their prayers. Then he wished to be
buried among them. We are touched by this ; but, again,
Abaelard meant it, as he said, for his soul's welfare — it was
no love sentiment. The letter stirred the heart of Heloise
to a rebellious outcry against the cruelty of God, if not of
Abaelard, a soul's cry against life and the calm attitude of
one who no longer was — or at least meant to be no longer
— ^what he had been to her.
" To her only one, next to Christ, his only one in Christ.
" I wonder, my only one, that contrary to epistolary custom
and the natural order of things, in the salutation of your letter
you have placed me before you, a woman before a man, a wife
before a husband, a servant before her lord, a nun before a monk
and priest, a deaconess before an abbot. The proper order is
for one writing to a superior to put his own name last, but when
writing to an inferior, the writer's name should precede. We
also marvelled, that where you should have afforded us consola-
tion, you added to our desolation, and excited the tears you
should have quieted. How could we restrain our tears when
reading what you wrote towards the end : ' If the Lord shall
deliver me into the hand of my enemies to slay me ' ! Dearest,
how couldst thou think or say that ? May God never forget His
handmaids, to leave them living when you are no more ! May
He never allot to us that life, which would be harder than any death!
44 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
It is for you to perform our obsequies and commend our souls to
God, and send before to God those whom you have gathered for
Him — that you may have no further anxiety, and follow us the
more gladly because assured of our safety. Refrain, my lord, I
beg, from making the miserable most miserable with such words ;
destroy not our life before we die. ' Sufficient unto the day is
the evil thereof ' — and that day will come to all with bitterness
enough. ' What need,' says Seneca, ' to add to evil, and destroy
life before death ? '
" Thou askest, only one, that, in the event of thy death
when absent from us, we should have thy body brought to our
cemetery, in order that, being always in our memory, thou
shouldst obtain greater benefit from our prayers. Did you think
that your memory could slip from us ? How could we pray,
with distracted minds ? What use of tongue or reason would be
left to us ? When the mind is crazed against God it will not
placate Him with prayer so much as irritate Him with complaints.
We could only weep, pressing to follow rather than bury you.
How could we live after we had lost our life in you ? The thought
of your death is death to us ; what would be the actuality ?
God grant we shall not have to pay those rites to one from whom
we look for them ; may we go before and not follow ! A heart
crushed with grief is not calm, nor is a mind tossed by troubles
open to God. Do not, I beg, hinder the divine service to which
we are dedicated.
" What remains of hope for me when thou art gone ? Or
what reason to continue in this pilgrimage, where I have no
solace save thee ? and of thee I have but the bare knowledge
that thou dost live, since thy restoring presence is not granted
me. Oh ! — if it is right to say it — how cruel has God been to
me ! Inclement Clemency ! Fortune has emptied her quiver
against me, so that others have nothing to fear ! If indeed a
single dart were left, no place could be found in me for a new
wound. Fortune fears only lest I escape her tortures by death.
Wretched and unhappy ! in thee I was lifted above all women ;
in thee am I the more fatally thrown down. What glory did I
have in thee ! what ruin have I now ! Fortune made me the
happiest of women that she might make me the most miserable.
The injury was the more outrageous in that all ways of right
were broken. While we were abandoned to love's dehghts, the
divine severity spared us. When we made the forbidden lawful
and by marriage wiped out fornication's stains, the Lord's
wrath broke on us, impatient of an unsullied bed when it long had
borne with one defiled. A man taken in adultery would have
been amply punished by what came to you. What others
deserved for adultery, that you got from the marriage which you
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOISE 45
thought had made amends for everything. Adulteresses bring
their paramours what your own wife brought you. Not when
we hved for pleasure, but when, separated, we Lived in chastity,
you presiding at the Paris schools, I at thy command dweUing
with the nuns at Argenteuil ; you devoted to study, I to prayer
and holy reading ; it was then that you alone paid the penalty
for what we had done together. Alone you bore the punishment,
which you deserved less than I. When you had humihated
yourself and elevated me and all my kin, you little merited that
punishment either from God or from those traitors. Miserable
me, begotten to cause such a crime ! O womankind ever the
ruin of the noblest men ! ^
" Well the Tempter knows how easy is man's overthrow
through a wife. He cast his malice over us, and the man whom he
could not throw down through fornication, he tried with marriage,
using a good to bring about an evil where evil means had failed.
I thank God at least for this, that the Tempter did not draw me
to assent to that which became the cause of the evil deed. Yet,
although in this my mind absolves me, too many sins had gone
before to leave me guiltless of that crime. For long a servant of
forbidden joys, I earned the punishment which I now suffer of
past sins. Let the evil end be attributed to ill beginnings !
May my penitence be meet for what I have done, and may long
remorse in some way compensate for the penalty you suffered !
What once you suffered in the body, may I through contrition
bear to the end of life, that so I may make satisfaction to thee if
not to God. To confess the infirmities of my most wretched
soul, I can find no penitence to offer God, whom I never cease to
accuse of utter cruelty towards you. Rebellious to His rule, I
offend Him with indignation more than I placate Him with
penitence. For that cannot be called the sinner's penitence
where, whatever be the body's suffering, the mind retains the
will to sin and still burns with the same desires. It is easy in
confession to accuse oneself of sins, and also to do penance with
the body ; but hard indeed to turn the heart from the desire of
its greatest joys ! ^ Love's pleasures, which we knew together,
cannot be made displeasing to me nor driven from my memory.
Wherever I turn, they press upon me, nor do they spare my
dreams. Even in the solemn moments of the Mass, when prayer
should be the purest, their phantoms catch my soul. When I
should groan for what I have done, I sigh for what I have lost.
Not only our acts, but times and places stick fast in my mind,
and my body quivers. O truly wretched me, fit only to utter
^ Heloise here in mediaeval fashion cites a number of examples from Scripture
showing the ills and troubles brought by women to men.
^ Again she quotes to prove this, from Job and St. Gregory and Ambrose.
46 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
this cry of the soul : ' Wretched that I am, who shall deliver me
from the body of this death ? ' Would I could add with truth
what follows : — ' I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.'
Such thanksgiving, dearest, may be thine, by one bodily ill
cured of many tortures of the soul, and God may have been
merciful where He seemed against you ; like a good physician
who does not spare the pain needed to save life. But I am
tortured with passion and the fires of memory. They call me
chaste, who do not know me for a hypocrite. They look upon
purity of the flesh as virtue — which is of the soul, not of the body.
Having some praise from men, I merit none from God, who
knows the heart. I am called religious at a time when most
religion is hypocrisy, and when whoever keeps from offence
against human law is praised. Perhaps it seems praiseworthy
and acceptable to God, through decent conduct, — whatever the
intent — to avoid scandahzing the Church or causing the Lord's
name to be blasphemed or the religious Order discredited. Per-
haps it may be of grace just to abstain from evil. But the
Scripture says, ' Refrain from evil and do good ' ; and vainly he
attempts either who does not act from love of God. God knows
that I have always feared to offend thee more than I feared to
offend Him ; and have desired to please thee rather than Him.
Thy command, not the divine love,put on me this garb of religion.
What a wretched life I lead if I vainly endure all this here and
am to have no reward hereafter. My hypocrisy has long deceived
you, as it has others, and therefore you desire my prayers.
Have no such confidence ; I need your prayers ; do not
withdraw their aid. Do not take away the medicine, thinking
me whole. Do not cease to think me needy ; do not think me
strong ; do not delay your help. Cease from praising me, I beg.
No one versed in medicine will judge of inner disease from out-
ward view. Thy praise is the more perilous because I love it,
and desire to please thee always. Be fearful rather than confident
regarding me, so that I may have the help of your care. Do not
seek to spur me on, by quoting, ' For strength is made perfect
in weakness,' or ' He is not crowned unless he have contended
lawfully.' I am not looking for the crown of victory ; enough
for me to escape peril ; — safer to shun peril than to wage war !
In whatever little corner of heaven God puts me, that will satisfy
me. Hear what Saint Jerome says : ' I confess my weakness ;
I do not wish to fight for the hope of victory, lest I lose.' Why
give up certainties to follow the uncertain ? "
This letter gives a view of Heloise's mind, its strong
grasp and its capacity for reasoning, though its reasoning is
here distraught with passion. Scathingly, half-blinded by
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOISE 47
her pain, she declares the perversities of Providence, as they
glared upon her. Such a disclosure of the woman's mind
suggests how broadly based in thought and largely reared was
that great love into which her whole soul had been poured,
the mind as well as heart. Her love was great, unique, not
only from its force of feehng, but from the power and scope
of thought by which passion and feeling were carried out so
far and fully to the last conclusions of devotion. The letter
also shows a woman driven by stress of misery to utter cries
and clutch at remedies that her calmer self would have put
by. It is not hypocrisy to conceal the desires or imaginings
which one would never act upon. To tell these is not true
disclosure of oneself, but slander. Torn by pain, Heloise
makes herself more vile and needy than in other moments
she knew herself to be. Yet the letter also uncovers her ;
and in nakedness there is some truth. Doubtless her nun's
garb did clothe a hypocrite. Whatever she felt — and here
we see the worst she felt — before the world she had to act
the nun. We shall soon see how she forced herself to act,
or be, the nun toward Abaelard.
Abaelard replied in a letter filled with religious argument
and consolation. It was self-controlled, firm, authoritative,
and strong in those arguments regarding God's mercy which
have stood the test of time. If they sometimes fail to satisfy
the embittered soul, at least they are the best that man
has known. And withal, the letter is calmly and nobly
affectionate — what place was there for love's protestations ?
They would have increased the evil, adding fuel to Heloise's
passionate misery.
The master -note is struck in the address : "To the
spouse of Christ, His servant." The letter seeks to turn
Heloise's thoughts to her nun's calling and her soul's salva-
tion. It places her expressions of complaint under four
heads. First, he had put her name first, because she had
become his superior from the moment of her bridal with his
master Christ. Jerome writing to Eustochium called her
Lady, when she had become the spouse of Jerome's Lord.
Abaelard shows, with citations from the Song of Songs, the
glory of the spouse, and how her prayers should be sought
by one who was the servant of her Husband. Second, as to
48 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
the terrors roused in her by his mention of his peril and
possible death, he points out that in her first letter she had
bidden him write of those perils ; if they brought him death,
she should deem that a kind release. She should not wish
to see his miseries drawn out, even for her sake. Third, he
shows that his praise of her was justified even by her dis-
claimer of merit — as it is written. Who humbles himself shall
be exalted. He warns her against false modesty which may
be vanity.
He turns at last to the old and ceaseless plaint which
she makes against God for cruelty, when she should rather
glorify Him ; he had thought that that bitterness had
departed, so dangerous for her, so painful to him. If she
wished to please him, let her lay it aside ; retaining it, she
could not please him or advance with him to blessedness ; let
her have this much religion, not to separate herself from him
hastening to God ; let her take comfort in their journeying to
the same goal. He then shows her that his punishment
was just as well as merciful ; he had deserved it from God
and also from Fulbert. If she will consider, she will see in it
God's justice and His mercy ; God had saved them from ship-
wreck ; had raised a barrier against shame and lust. For
himself the punishment was purification, not privation ; will
not she, as his inseparable comrade, participate in the work-
ings of this grace, even as she shared the guilt and its
pardon ? Once he had thought of binding her to him in
wedlock ; but God found a means to turn them both to Him ;
and the Lord was continuing His mercy towards her, causing
her to bring forth spiritual daughters, when otherwise she
would only have borne children in the flesh ; in her the curse
of Eve is turned to the blessing of Mary. God had purified
them both ; whom God loveth he correcteth. Oh ! let her
thoughts dwell with the Son of God, seized, dragged, beaten,
spit upon, crowned with thorns, hung on a vile cross. Let
her think of Him as her spouse, and for Him let her make
lament ; He bought her with himself. He loved her. In
comparison with His love, his own (Abaelard's) was lust,
seeking the pleasure it could get from her. If he, Abaelard,
had suffered for her, it was not willingly nor for her sake, as
Christ had suffered, and for her salvation. Let her weep for
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOISE ^^f
Him who made her whole, not for her corrupter ; for her
Redeemer, not for her defiler ; for the Lord who died for her,
not for the hving servant, himself just freed from the death.
Let his sister accept with patience what came to her in mercy
from Him who wounded the body to save the soul.
" We are one in Christ, as through marriage we were one
flesh. Whatever is thine is not alien to me. Christ is thine,
because thou art His spouse. And now thou hast me for a
servant, who formerly was thy master — a servant united to thee
by spiritual love. I trust in thy pleading with Him for such
defence as my own prayers may not obtain. That nothing may
hinder this petition I have composed this prayer, which I send
thee : ' O God, who formed woman from the side of man and
didst sanction the sacrament of marriage ; who didst bestow
upon my frailty a cure for its incontinence ; do not despise the
prayers of thy handmaid, and the prayers which I pour out for
my sins and those of my dear one. Pardon our great crimes,
and may the enormity of our faults find the greatness of thy
ineffable mercy. Punish the culprits in the present ; spare, in
the future. Thou hast joined us, Lord, and hast divided us, as
it pleased thee. Now complete most mercifully what thou hast
begun in mercy ; and those whom thou hast divided in this world,
join eternally in heaven, thou who art our hope, our portion,
our expectation, our consolation. Lord blessed forever. Amen.'
" Farewell in Christ, spouse of Christ ; in Christ farewell and
in Christ live. Amen."
In her next letter Heloise obeys, and turns her pen if
not her thoughts to the topics suggested by Abaelard's
admonitions. The short scholastically phrased address
cannot be rendered in any modern fashion : " Domino
specialiter sua singulariter."
" That you may have no further reason to call me disobedient,
your command shall bridle the words of unrestrained grief ; in
writing I will moderate my language, which I might be unable
to do in speech. Nothing is less in our power than our heart ;
which compels us to obey more often than it obeys us. When
our affections goad us, we cannot keep the sudden impulse from
breaking out in words ; as it is written, ' From the fulness of the
heart the mouth speaketh.' So I will withhold my hand from
writing whenever I am unable to control my words. Would
that the sorrowing heart were as ready to obey as the hand that
writes ! You can afford some remedy to grief, even when unable
to dispel it quite. As one nail driven in drives out another, a
VOL. II E
50 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
new thought pushes away its predecessor, and the mind is freed
for a time. A thought, moreover, takes the mind up and leads
it from others more effectually, if the subject of the thought is
excellent and of great importance."
The rest of this long letter shows Heloise putting her
principles in practice. She is forcing her mind to consider
and her pen to discourse upon topics which might properly
occupy an abbess's thoughts — topics, moreover, which
would satisfy Abaelard and call forth long letters in reply.
Whether she cared really for these matters or ever came
to care for them ; or whether she turned to them to distract
her mind and keep up some poor makeshift of intercourse
with one who would and could no longer be her lover ; or
whether all these motives mingled, and in what proportion,
perhaps may best be left to Him who tries the heart.
The abbess writes :
" All of us here, servants of Christ and thy daughters, make
two requests of thy fathership which we deem most needful.
The one is, that you would instruct us concerning the origins of
the order of nuns and the authority for our calling. The other
is, that you would draw up a written regula, suitable for women,
which shall prescribe and set the order and usages of our convent.
We do not find any adequate regula for women among the works
of the holy Fathers. It is a manifest defect in monastic institu-
tions that the same rules should be imposed upon both monks
and nuns, and that the weaker sex should bear the same monastic
yoke as the stronger."
Heloise, having set this task for Abaelard, proceeds to
show how the various monastic regulae, from Benedict's
downward, failed to make suitable provision for the habits
and requirements and weaknesses of women, the regulae
hitherto having been concerned with the weaknesses of men.
She enters upon matters of clothing and diet, and every-
thing concerning the lives of nuns. She writes as one
learned in Scripture and the writings of the Fathers, and
sets the whole matter forth, in its details, with admirable
understanding of its intricacies. She concludes, reminding
Abaelard that it is for him in his lifetime to set a regula
for them to follow forever ; after God, he is their founder.
They might thereafter have some teacher who would build
in alien fashion ; such a one might have less care and
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOISE 51
understanding, and might not be as readily obeyed as
himself ; it is for him to speak, and they will listen.
Vale.
The first of Heloise's letters is a great expression of a
great love ; in the second, anguish drives the writer's hand ;
in the third, she has gained self-control ; she suppresses her
heart, and writes a letter which is discursive and impersonal
from the beginning to the little Vale at the end.
Abaelard returned a long epistle upon the Scriptural
origin of the order of nuns, and soon followed it with
another, still longer, containing instruction, advice, and rules
for the nuns of the Paraclete. He also wrote them a letter
upon the study of Scripture. From this time forth he
proved his devotion to Heloise and her nuns by the large
body of writings which he composed for their edification.
Heloise sent him a long list of questions upon obscure
phrases and knotty points of Scripture, which he answered
diligently in detail.^ He then sent her a collection of
hymns written or " rearranged " by himself for the use of
the nuns, accompanied by a prefatory letter : "At thy
prayers, my sister Heloise, once dear to me in the world,
now most dear in Christ, I have composed what in Greek
are called hymns, and in Hebrew tillim." He then explains
why, yielding to the requests of the nuns, he had written
hymns, of which the Church had such a store.
Next he composed for them a large volume of sermons,
which he also sent with a letter to Heloise : " Having
completed the book of hymns and sequences, revered in
Christ and loved sister Heloise, I have hastened to compose
some sermons for your congregation ; I have paid more
attention to the meaning than the language. But perhaps
an unstudied style is well suited to simple auditors. In
composing and arranging these sermons I have followed the
order of Church festivals. Farewell in the Lord, servant
of His, once dear to me in the world, now most dear in
Christ : in the flesh then my wife, now my sister in the
spirit and partner in our sacred calling,"
^ Heloise's last problema did not relate to Scripture, and may have been
suggested by her own life. " We ask whether one can sin in doing what is per-
mitted or commanded by the Lord ? " Abaelard answers with a discussion of
what is permissible between man and wife.
52 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
At a subsequent period, when his opinions were con-
demned by the Council of Sens, he sent to Heloise a
confession of faith. Shortly afterward his stormy life
found a last refuge in the monastery of Cluny. His closing
years (of peace ?) are described in a letter to Heloise from
the good and revered abbot, Peter the Venerable. He
writes that he had received with joy the letter which her
affection had dictated, ^ and now took the first opportunity
to express his recognition of her affection and his reverence
for herself. He refers to her keenly prosecuted studies
(so rare for women) before taking the veil, and then to the
glorious example of her sage and holy life in the nun's
sacred calling — her victory over the proud Prince of this
World. His admiration for her was deep ; his expression
of it was extreme. A learned, wise, and holy woman could
not be praised more ardently than Heloise is praised by this
good man. He had spoken of the advantages his monastery
would have derived from her presence, and then continued :
" But although God's providence denied us this, it was granted
us to enjoy the presence of him — who was yours — Master Peter
Abaelard, a man always to be spoken of with honour as a true
servant of Christ and a philosopher. The divine dispensation
placed him in Cluny for his last years, and through him enriched
our monastery with treasure richer than gold. No brief writing
could do justice to his holy, humble, and devoted life among us.
I have not seen his equal in humility of garb and manner. When
in the crowd of our brethren I forced him to take a first place,
in meanness of clothing he appeared as the last of all. Often I
marvelled, as the monks walked past me, to see a man so great
and famous thus despise and abase himself. He was abstemious
in food and drink, refusing and condemning everything beyond
the bare necessities. He was assiduous in study, frequent in _
prayer, always silent unless compelled to answer the question of I
some brother or expound sacred themes before us. He partook '■
of the sacrament as often as possible. Truly his mind, his tongue,
his act, taught and exemplified religion, philosophy, and learning.
So he dwelt with us, a man simple and righteous, fearing God,
turning from evil, consecrating to God the latter days of his hfe.
At last, because of his bodily infirmities, I sent him to a quiet
and salubrious retreat on the banks of the Saone. There he bent
over his books, as long as his strength lasted, always praying,
^ This letter of Heloise is not extant.
CHAP. XXVI THE HEART OF HELOISE 53
reading, writing, or dictating. In these sacred exercises, not
sleeping but watching, he was found by the heavenly Visitor ;
who summoned him to the eternal wedding-feast not as a foohsh
but as a wise virgin, bearing his lamp filled with oil — the con-
sciousness of a holy hfe. When he came to pay humanity's last
debt, his illness was brief. With holy devotion he made con-
fession of the Catholic Faith, then of his sins. The brothers
who were with him can testify how devoutly he received the
viaticum of that last journey, and with what fervent faith he
commended his body and soul to his Redeemer. Thus this
master, Peter, completed his days. He who was known through-
out the world by the fame of his teaching, entered the school of
Him who said, ' Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart ' ;
and continuing meek and lowly he passed to Him, "as we may
believe.
" Venerable and dearest sister in the Lord, the man who was
once joined to thee in the flesh, and then by the stronger chain
of divine love, him in thy stead, or as another thee, the Lord
holds in His bosom ; and at the day of His coming,' His grace
will restore him to thee."
The abbot afterwards visited the Paraclete, and on
returning to Cluny received this letter from the abbess :
" God's mercy visiting us, we have been \dsited by the favour
of your graciousness. We are glad, kindest father, and we glory
that your greatness condescended to our insignificance. A visit
from you is an honour even to the great. The others may know
the great benefit they received from the presence of your high-
ness. I cannot tell in words, or even comprehend in thought,
how beneficial and how sweet your coming was to me. You'
our abbot and our lord, celebrated mass with us the sixteenth of
the Calends of last December ; you commended us to the Holy
Spirit ; you nourished us with the Divine Word ;— you gave us
the body of the master, and confirmed that gift from Cluny
To me also, unworthy to be your servant, though by word and
letter you have called me sister, you gave as a pledge of sincere
love the privilege of a Tricenarium, to be performed by the
brethren of Cluny, after my death, for the benefit of my soul
;?^i ^^^ promised to confirm this under your seal. May you
fulfil this my lord. Might it please you also to send to me that
otner sealed roll, containing the absolution of the master that I
may hang it on his tomb. Remember also, for the love of God
t^T^?^ your— Astralabius, to obtain for him a prebend from
tne bishop of Pans or another. Farewell. May God preserve
you, and grant to us sometime your presence."
54 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
The good abbot replied with a kind and affectionate
letter, confirming his gift of the Tricenarium, promising to
do all he could for Astralabius, and sending with his letter
the record of Abaelard's absolution, as follows :
" I, Peter, Abbot of Cluny, who received Peter Abaelard to
be a monk in Cluny, and granted his body, secretly transported,
to the Abbess Heloise and the nuns of the Paraclete, absolve him,
in the performance of my office (j[)ro officio) by the authority of
the omnipotent God and all the saints, from all his sins."
Abaelard died in the year 1142, aged sixty-three.
Twenty-one years afterward Heloise died at the same age,
and was buried in the same tomb with him at the
Paraclete :
" Hoc tumulo abbatissa jacet prudens Heloissa."
CHAPTER XXVII
GEKMAN CONSIDERATIONS : WALTHER VON DER
VOGELWEIDE
A CRITICISM of the world of feudalism, chivalry, and love
may be had from the impressions and temperamental re-
actions of a certain thinking atom revolving in the same.
The atom referred to was Walther von der Vogelweide, a
German, a knight, a Minnesinger, and a national poet whose
thoughts were moved by the instincts of his caste and race.
In language, temperament, and character, the Germans
east of the Rhine were Germans still in the thirteenth
century. They had accepted, and even vitally appropriated,
Latin Christianity ; those of them who were educated had
received a Latin education. Yet their natures, though
somewhat tempered, showed largely and distinctly German.
Moreover, through the centuries, they had acquired — or
rather they had never lost — a national antipathy toward
those Roman papal well-springs of authority, which seemed
to suck back German gold and lands in return for spiritual
assurance and political betrayal.
A different and already mediaevalized element had also
become part of German culture, to wit, the matter of the
French Arthurian romances and the lyric fashions of
Provence, which, working together, had captivated modish
German circles from the Rhine to the Danube. Neverthe-
less the German character maintained itself in the Minne-
lieder which followed Provengal poetry, and in the hofisch
(courtly) epics which were palpable translations from the
French.^ The distinguished group of German poets whose
1 The Tristan of Gottfried von Strassburg and the Parzival of Wolfram
von Eschenbach have been given. One may also refer to works of older
55
56 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
lives fall around the year 1200, were as German as their
language, although they borrowed from abroad the form
and matter of their compositions.
There could be no better Germans than the two most
thoughtful of this group, Wolfram von Eschenbach and
Walther von der Vogelweide. Most Germanically the
former wrestled with that ancient theme, " from suffering,
wisdom," which he pressed into the tale of Parzival. His
great poem, achieved with toil and sweat, was mighty in
its climaxes, and fit to strengthen the hearts of those men
who through sorrow and loneliness and despair's temptations
were growing " slowly wise."
The virtues which Wolfram praised and embodied in his
hero were those praised in the verses, and even, one may
think, strugglingly exemplified in the conduct, of Walther von
der Vogelweide,^ most famous of Minnesingers, and a power
in the German lands through his Spriiche, or verses personal
and political. Less is known of his life than of his whole
and manly views, his poetic fancies, his musings, his hopes,
and great depressions. Many places have claimed the honour
of his birth, which took place somewhat before 1170. He
was poor, and through his youth and manhood moved about
from castle to castle, and from court to court, seeking to win
some recompense for his excellent verses and good company.
Thus he learned much of men, " climbing another's stairs,"
with his fellows, at the Landgraf Hermann's Wartburg, or at
the Austrian ducal Court.
Walther's Spriiche render his moods most surely, and
reflect his outlook on the world. His charming Minnelieder
bear more conventional evidence. The courtly German love-
songs passing by this name were affected by the conceits
and conventions of the Provengal poetry upon which they
contemporaries, e.g. to the Aeneid of Heinrich von Veldeke, translated (1184)
from a French rendering of VirgU ; and the two courtly narrative poems, the
Erec and Ivain (Knight of the Lion) taken from Chretien of Troies by
Hartmann von Aue, who flourished as the twelfth century was passing into the
thirteenth.
1 On Walther von der Vogelweide, see Wilmannf Leben und DicMung
Walthers, etc. (Bonn, 1882) ; Schonbach, Walther von der Vogelweide (2nd ed.,
Berlin, 1895). The citations from his poems in this chapter follow the Pfeiffer-
Bartsch edition.
CHAP. XXVII THE GERMAN VIEW 57
were modelled. A strong nature might use such with power,
or break with their influence. Walther made his own the
high convention of trouvere and troubadour, that love uplifts
the lover's being. Besides this, and besides the lighter
forms and phrases current in such poetry, his Lieder carry
natural feeling, joy, and moral levity, according to the theme;
they also may express Walther's convictions.
To take examples : Walther's Tagelied ^ imitates the
proven9al alha (dawn), in which knight and truant lady
bewail the coming of the light and the parting which it
brings. Far more joyous, and as immoral as one pleases,
is Unter der Linde, most famous of his songs. Mar-
vellously it gives the mood of love's joy remembered — and
anticipated too. The immorality is complete (if we will be
serious), and is rendered most alluring by the utter gladness
of the girl's song — no repentance, no regret ; only joy and
roguish laughter.
Walther was young, he was a knight and a Minnesinger ;
he had doubtless loved, in this way. His love-songs have
plenty to say of the red mouth, good for kissing — I care not
who knows it either. But he also realizes, and greatly sings,
the height and breadth and worth of love the true and
stable, the blessing and completion of two lives, which comes
to a false heart never.^ He seems to feel it necessary to
defend love for itself, perhaps because marriage was taken
more seriously in this imitative German literature than in
the French and Provencal originals : " Who says that love is
sin, let him consider well. Many an honour dwells with her,
and troth and happiness. If one does ill to the other, love
is grieved. I do not mean false love ; that were better
named un-love. No friend of that, am I." But his
thoughts turn quickly to love as a lasting union : " He
happy man, she happy woman, whose hearts are to each
other true ; both lives increased in price and worth ; blessed
their years and all their days." ^
Giving play to his caustic temper, Walther puts scorn
upon the light of love : " Fool he who cannot understand
what joy and good, love brings. But the Hght man is ever
^ No. 3 in the Pfeiffer-Bartsch edition.
2 184. 3 33.
58 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
pleased with light things, as is fit ! " ^ This Minnesinger
applied most earnest standards to life ; lofty his praise of the
qualities of womanhood, which are better than beauty or
riches : " woman " is a higher word than " lady " ^ — it took
a German to say this. " He who carries hidden sorrow in
his heart, let him think upon a good woman — he is freed." ^
With a burst of patriotism, in one of his greatest poems
Walther praises German women as the best in all the world.*
But even in the Minnelieder, Walther has his despond-
encies. One of the most definite, and possibly conventional,
was regret for love's labour lost, and the days of youth
spent in service of an ungracious fair. The poet wonders how
it is that he who has helped other men is tongue-tied before
his lady. Again, his reflections broaden from thoughts of
unresponsive fair ones to a conviction of life's thanklessness.
" I have well served the World {Frau Welt, Society), and
gladly would serve her more, but for her evil thanks and her
way of preferring fools to me. . . . Come, World, give me
better greeting — the loss is not all mine." He knows his
good unbending temper which will not endure to hear ill
spoken of the upright. But he thinks, what is the use ?
why speak so sweetly, why sing, when virtue and beauty
are so lightly held, and every one does evil, fearing nought ?
The verse which carries these reflections is tossing in the
squally haven of Society ; soon the poet will encounter the
wild sea without. Still from the windy harbour comes one
grand lament over art's decline : " The worst songs please,
frogs' voices ! Oh, I laugh from anger ! Lady World, no
score of mine is on your devil's slate. Many a life of man
and woman have I made glad — might I so have gladdened
mine ! Here, I make my Will, and bequeath my goods —
to the envious my ill-luck, my sorrows to the liars, my
follies to false lovers, and to the ladies my heart's pain." ^
He makes a solemn offering of his poems : " Good women,
worthy men, a loving greeting is my due. Forty years have
I sung fittingly of love ; and now, take my songs which
gladden, as my gift to you. Your favour be my return.
And with my staff I will fare on, still wooing worth with
^ 22. 2 14, 16, 69. 3 18. * 39.
^ See Lieder, 46, 51, 56, 59, 61, 62, 71, 72, 75, 76, 77.
CHAP. XXVII THE GERMAN VIEW 59
undisheartened work, as from my childhood. So shall I be,
in lowly lot, one of the Noble — for me enough."
To relish Walther's love -songs, one need not know
whether she was dark or fair, kept forest-tryst or listened by
some castle's hearth, or in what German land that castle
stood. Likewise in his Spriiche, which have other bearing,
the roll of his protesting voice carries the universal human.
To comprehend them it were well to know that life was then
as now niggardly in rewarding virtue ; beyond this, one
needs to have the type-idea of the Empire and the Papacy,
those two powers which were set, somewhat antagonistically,
on the decree of God ; both claiming the world's headship ;
the one, Roman in tradition, but in strength and temper
German, and of this world decidedly. The other, Roman
in the genius of its organization, and Christian in its sub-
ordination of the life below to the life to come, if not in the
methods of establishing this consummation ; Christian too,
but more especially mediaeval, in its formal disdain for
whatever belonged to earth. In Germany these two partial
opposites were further antagonized, since the native resources
recoiled from the foreign drain upon them, and the struggling
patriotism of a broken land resented the pressure of a state
within and above the state of duke and king and emperor.
In Walther's time Innocent III. swayed the nations from
Peter's throne. Just before Innocent's accession, Germany's
able emperor, Henry VL, died suddenly in Sicily (Septem-
ber 1197), leaving an heir not four years old. The queen-
mother, dying the next year, bequeathed this child, Frederick,
to the paternal care of Innocent, his feudal as well as ghostly
lord, since the queen, for herself and child, had accepted the
Pope as the feudal suzerain of their kingdom of Sicily. In
Germany (using that name loosely and broadly) Philip
Hohenstauffen, Henry's brother and Duke of Suabia, claimed
the throne. His unequal opponent was Otto of Brunswick,
of the ever-rebellious house of Henry the Lion. The Pope
opposed the Hohenstauffen ; but was obliged to acknowledge
him when the course of the ten years of wasting civil war in
Germany decided in his favour — whereupon, alack ! Philip
was murdered (1207). Quickly the Pope turned back to
Otto ; but the latter, after he had been crowned king and
6o THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
emperor, became intolerable to Innocent through the com-
pulsion of his position as the head of an empire inherently
hostile to the papacy. To thwart him Innocent set up his own
ward, Frederick. Soon this precocious youth began to make
head against pope-forsaken Otto ; and then the excommuni-
cated emperor was overthrown in 12 14 by Philip Augustus
of France, who had intervened in Frederick's favour. So
Otto passed away, and, some time after, Frederick was
crowned German king at Aix-la-Chapelle.^ In the mean-
while Innocent died (1216), and amity followed between
Frederick and the gentle Honorius III., who crowned
Frederick emperor at Rome in 1220. This peace ended
quickly when the sterner Gregory IX. ascended the papal
throne on the death of Honorius in 1227.
Walther's life extended through these events. Though
apparently changing sides under the stress of his necessities,
he was patriotically German to the end. First he clave to
the Hohenstauffen, Philip, as the true upholder of German
interests against Otto and the Pope. On Philip's death, he
turned to Otto ; but with all the world left him at last for
Frederick. It is known that Walther, an easily angered man,
felt himself ill-used by Otto and justified in turning to the
open-handed Frederick, who finally gave him a small fief.
To the last, Walther upheld him as Germany's sovereign.
Probably the poet died in the year 1228, just as Gregory
was succeeding Honorius, and the death-struggle of the
Empire with the Papacy was opening.
With no light heart, as well may be imagined, had
Walther looked about him on the death of the emperor Henry
in 1197. " I sat upon a rock, crossed knee on knee, and
with elbow so supported, chin on hand I leaned. Anxiously
I pondered. I could see no way to win gain without loss.
Honour and riches do not go hand in hand, both of less
value than God's favour. Would I have them all ? Alas !
riches and worldly honour and God's favour come not within
the closure of one heart's wishes. The ways are barred ;
perfidy lurks in secret, and might walks the highroads.
Peace and law are wounded." ^
1 A lucid account of this struggle is given by Luchaire, Innocent III., vol. iii.
(" La Papaute et rEmpire "), Paris, 1906. 2 gj^
CHAP. XXVII THE GERMAN VIEW 6i
The personal dilemma of the poet with his fortune to
make, but desirous of doing right, mirrors the desperate
situation of the State : " Woe is thee, German tongue ; ill
stand thy order and thy honour ! — I hear the lies of Rome
betraying two kings ! " And in verses of wrath Walther
inveighs against the Pope The sweeping nature of his
denunciation raises the question whether he merely attacked
the supposed treachery of the reigning pope, or was opposed
to the papacy as an institution hostile to the German nation.
The answer is not clear. Mediaeval denunciations of
the Church range from indictments of particular abuses, on
through more general invectives, to the clear protests of
heretics impugning the ecclesiastical system. It is not
always easy to ascertain the speaker's meaning. Usually
the abuse and not the system is attacked. Hostility to the
latter, however sweeping the language of satirist or preacher,
is not lightly to be inferred. The invectives of St. Bernard
and Damiani are very broad ; but where had the Church
more devoted sons ? Even the satirists composing in Old
French rarely intended an assault upon her spiritual authority.
It would seem as if, at least in the Romance countries, one
must look for such hostility to heretical circles, the Waldenses
for example. And from the orthodox mediaeval standpoint,
this was their most accursed heresy.
It would have been hard for any German to use broader
language than some of the French satirists and Latin
castigators. If there was a difference, it must be sought
in the specific matter of the German disapproval viewed in
connection with the political situation. Was a position ever
taken incompatible with the Church's absolute spiritual
authority ? or one intrinsically irreconcilable with the secular
power of the papacy ? At any time, in any country, papal
claims might become irreconcilable with the royal pre-
rogative — as William the Conqueror had held those of
Gregory VIL in England, and as, two centuries afterwards,
Philip the Fair was to hold those of Boniface VIII, in
France. But in neither case was there such sheer and
fundamental antagonism as men felt to exist between the
Empire and the Papacy. Perhaps it was possible in the
early thirteenth century for a German whose whole heart
62 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
was on the German side to dispute even the sacerdotal
principle of papal authority. It is hard to judge otherwise
of Freidank, the very German composer or collector of
trenchant sayings in the early thirteenth century. Many of
these sneer at Rome and the Pope, and some of them strike
the gist of the matter : " Sunde nieman mac vergeben wan
Got alein " ("God alone can forgive sins"). This is the direct
statement ; he gives its scornful converse : " Could the Pope
absolve me from my oaths and duties, I'd let other sureties
go and fasten to him alone." ^ Such words mean denial of
the Church's authority to forgive, and the Pope's to grant
absolution from oaths of allegiance. Freidank is very near
rejecting the principles of the ecclesiastical system.
Walther, Freidank's contemporary, is more picturesque :
" King Constantine, he gave so much — as I will tell you —
to the Chair of Rome : spear, cross, and crown. At once the
angels cried : ' Alas ! Alas ! Alas ! Christendom before
stood crowned with righteousness. Now is poison fallen on
her, and her honey turned to gall — sad for the world hence-
forth ! ' To-day the princes all live in honour ; only their
highest languishes — so works the priest's election. Be that
denounced to thee, sweet God ! The priests would upset
laymen's rights : true is the angels' prophecy." ^
On Constantine's apocryphal gift, symbolized by the
emblems of Christ's passion, rested the secular authority of
the popes, which Walther laments with the angels. " The
Chair of Rome was first set up by Sorcerer Gerbert ! [Queer
history this, but we see what he means.] He destroyed his
own soul only ; but this one would bring down Christendom
with him to perdition. When will all tongues call Heaven
to arms, and ask God how long He will sleep ? They bring
to nought His work, distort His Word. His steward steals
His treasure ; His judge robs here and murders there ; His
shepherd has become a wolf among His sheep." ^ The
clergy point their fingers heavenward while they travel fast
to hell.* How laughs the Pope at us, when at home with
his Italians, at the way he empties our German pockets into
^ From " Freidank in Auswahl," in Hildebrand's Didaktik aus der Zeit der
Kreuzzuge, p. 336 (Deutsche Nat. Lit.).
2 85, Cf. 164. 2 no. * 113, Cf. Ill, 112.
CHAP. XXVII THE GERMAN VIEW 63
his " poor boxes." ^ Walther's hatred of the foreign Pope is
roused at every point. And at last, in a Spruch full of
implied meaning, he declares that Christ's word as to the
tribute money meant that the emperor should receive his
royal due.^
These utterances, considered in the light of the political
and racial situation, seem to deny, at least implicitly, the
secular power of the papacy. Yet in matters of religion
Walther apparently was entirely orthodox, and a pious
Christian, He has left a sweet prayer to Christ, with ample
recognition of the angels and the saints, and a beautiful
verse of penitent contrition, in which he confesses his sins to
God very directly — how that he does the wrong, and leaves
the right, and fails in love of neighbour. " Father, Son, may
thy Spirit lighten mine ; how may I love him who does me
ill ? Ever dear to me is he who treats me well ! " ^ Walther's
questing spirit also pondered over God's greatness and
incomprehensibility.* His open mind is shown by the
famous line : " Him (God) Christians, Jews, and heathen
serve," ^ a breadth of view shared by his friend Wolfram von
Eschenbach, who speaks of the chaste virtue of a heathen
lady as equal to baptism.^
The personal lot of this proud heart was not an easy
one ; homelessness broke him down, and the bitterness of
eating others' bread. Too well had he learned of the world
and all its changing ways, and how poor becomes the soul
that follows them. Mortality is a trite sorrow ; there are
worse : " We all complain that the old die and pass away ;
rather let us lament taints of another hue, that troth and
seemliness and honour are dead." ' At the last Walther's
1 115, 116.
* 133. My statement of the opposition to the papacy might be much more
analytical, and contain further apt distinctions. But this would remove it too far
from the anti-papal feeling of the common man ; and the period, moreover, is
not yet that of Occam and Marsilius of Padua — as to whom see Gierke, Political
Theories of the Middle Age, trans, by Maitland (Cambridge, 1900).
" 88, 137.
* 158. Walther shared the crusading spirit. The inference that he was him-
self a Crusader is unsafe ; but he wrote stirring crusading poems, one opening
with a line that in sudden power may be compared with Milton's
" Avenge, O Lord, Thy slaughtered saints."
" Rich, herre, dich und dine muoter, megede kint."
167. See also 78, 79.
^ 87. « Parzival, i. 824. ' 186.
64 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookiv
grey memory of life and his vainly yearning hope took form
in a great elegy. After long years he seemed, with heavy
steps, and leaning on his wanderer's staff, to be returning to
a home which was changed forever : " Alas ! whither are they
vanished, my many years ! Did I dream my life, or is it
real ? what I once deemed it, was it that ? And now I
wake, and all the things and people once familiar, strange !
My playmates, dull and old ! And the fields changed ; only
that the streams still flow as then they flowed, my heart
would break with thinking on the glad days, vanished in the
sea. And the young people ! slow and mirthless ! and the
knights go clad as peasants ! Ah ! Rome ! thy ban ! Our
groans have stilled the song of birds. Fool I, to speak and
so despair, — and the earth looks fair ! Up knights again :
your swords, your armour ! would to God I might fare with
your victor band, and gain my pay too — not in lands of
earth ! Oh ! might I win the eternal crown from that sweet
voyage beyond the sea, then would I sing O joy ! and never
more, alas — never more, alas." ^
BOOK V
SYMBOLISM
VOL. II
CHAPTER XXVIII
SCRIPTURAL ALLEGORIES IN THE EARLY MIDDLE
AGES ; HONORIUS OF AUTUN
Words, pictures, and other vehicles of expression are symbols
of whatever they are intended to designate. A certain un-
avoidable symbolism also inheres in human mental processes ;
for the mind in knowing " turns itself to images," as Aquinas
says following Aristotle ; and every statement or formula-
tion is a casting together of data in some presentable and
representative form. An example is the Apostles' Creed,
called also by this very name of Symbol, being a casting
together, an elementary formula, of the essentials of the
Christian Faith. In the same sense the " law of gravitation "
or a moral precept is a deduction, induction, or gathering
together into a representative symbol, of otherwise un-
assembled and uncorrelated experience. In the present and
following chapters, however, the term symbol will be used
in its common acceptation to indicate a thing, an act, or a
word invested with an adventitious representative significance.
All statements or expressions (through language or by
means of pictures) which are intended to carry, besides their
palpable meaning, another which is veiled and more spiritual,
are symbolical or figurative, and more specifically are called
allegories.^
1 While an allegory is a statement having another consciously intended
meaning, metaphor is the carrying over or deflection of a meaning from its
primary application. According to good usage, which has kept these terms
distinct, allegory implies a definite and usually a sustained intention, and suggests
the spiritual ; while metaphor suggests figures of speech and linguistic changes
often unconscious. Language develops through the metaphorical (not allegorical)
extension or modification of the meanings of words. The original meaning
sometimes is obscured (e.g. in profane or depend), and sometimes continues to
67
68 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
These devices of the mind have a history as old as
humanity. From inscrutable beginnings, in time they be-
come recognized as makeshifts ; yet they remain prone to
enter new stages of confusion. The mind seeking to express
the transcendental, avails itself of symbols. All religions
have teemed with them, in their primitive phases scarcely
distinguishing between symbol and fact ; then a difference
becomes evident to clearer-minded men, while perhaps at the
same time other men are elaborately maintaining that the
symbol magically is, or brings to pass, that which it represents.
Such obscuring mysticism existed not merely in confused
Egypt and Brahminical India, but everywhere — in antique
Greece and Rome, and then afterwards through the times of
the Christian Church Fathers and the entire Middle Ages.
Fact and symbol are seen constantly closing together and
becoming each other like the serpent-souls in the twenty-fifth
canto of Dante's Inferno.
Allegory properly speaking, which involves a conscious
and sustained effort to invest concrete or material statements
with more general or spiritual meaning, played an interesting
role in epochs antecedent to the patristic and mediaeval
periods. Even before Plato's time the personal myths of
the gods shocked the Greek ethical intellect, which thereupon
proceeded to convert them into allegories. Greek allegorical
interpretation of ancient myth was apologetic to both the
critical mind and the moral sense.
With Philo, the Hellenizing Jew of Alexandria, whose
philosophy revolted from the literal text of Genesis, the
motive for allegorical interpretation was similar. But the
document before him was most unlike the Iliad and Odyssey.
Genesis contained no palpably immoral stories of Jehovah
to be explained away. Its account of divine creation and
human beginnings merely needed to be invested with further
ethical meaning. So Philo made cardinal virtues of the four
rivers of Eden, and through like allegorical conceits trans-
formed the Book of Genesis into a system of Hellenistic
exist with the new one. In a vast number of languages, such words as straight,
oblique, crooked, seem always to have had both a direct and a metaphorical meaning.
Moral and intellectual conceptions necessarily are expressed in phrases primarily
applicable to physical phenomena.
CHAP. XXVIII SCRIPTURAL ALLEGORIES 69
ethics. Not cosmogonic myths, but moral meanings, he had
discovered in his document.
Advancing along the path which Philo found. Christian
allegorical interpretation undertook to substantiate the
validity of the Gospel. To this end it fixed special
symbolical meanings upon the Old Testament narratives, so
as to make them into prefigurative testimonies to the truth
of Christian teachings.^ Allegory was also called on to
justify, as against educated pagans, certain acts of that
heroic but peccant " type " of Christ, David, the son of
Jesse. Such special apologetic needs hardly affected the
allegorical interpretation of the Gospel itself, which began at
an early day, and from the first was spiritual and anagogic,
constantly straining on to educe further salutary meaning
from the text.
The Greek and Latin Church Fathers created the mass
of doctrine, including Scriptural interpretation,^ upon which
mediaeval theologians were to expend their systematizing
and reconstructive labours. Through the Middle Ages, the
course of allegory and symbolism strikingly illustrates the
mediaeval way of using the patristic heritage — first painfully
learning it, then making it their own, and at last creating
by means of that which they had organically appropriated.
Allegory and symbolism were to impress the Middle Ages
as perhaps no other element of their inheritance. The
mediaeval man thought and felt in symbols, and the sequence
of his thought moved as frequently from symbol to symbol
as from fact to fact.
The allegorical faculty with the Fathers was dogmatic
and theological ; ingenious in devising useful interpretations,
but oblivious to all reasonable propriety in the meaning
which it twisted into the text : controversial necessities
readily overrode the rational and moral requirements of the
" historical " or " literal " meaning. For the deeply reahzed
allegorical significance was a law unto itself. These
characteristics of patristic allegory passed over to the Middle
Ages, which in the course of time were to impress human
qualities upon the patristic material.
^ Cf. Taylor, Classical Heritage, p. 97 sqq.
" Ante, Chapters IV., V.
70 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
The Bathsheba and Uriah episode in the life of David
was of course taken allegorically, and affords a curious
example of a patristic interpretation originating in the
exigencies of controversy, and then becoming authoritative
for later periods when the echoes of the old controversy had
long been silent. Augustine was called upon to answer
the book of the clever Manichaean, Faustus, the stress
of whose attacks was directed against the Old Testament.
Faustus declared that he did not blaspheme " the law and
the prophets," but rejected merely the special Hebrew
customs and the vile calumnies of the Old Testament
writers, imputing shameful acts to prophets and patriarchs.
In his list of shocking narratives to be rejected, was the story
" that David after having had such a number of wives,
defiled the little woman of Uriah his soldier, and caused him
to be slain in battle." ^
Augustine responds with a general exclamation at the
Manichaean's failure to understand the sacramental symbols
{sacramenta) of the Law and the deeds of the prophets. He
then speaks of certain Old Testament statements regarding
God and His demands, and proceeds to consider the nature
of sin and the questionable deeds of the prophets. Some of
the reprehended deeds he justifies, as, for instance, Abraham's
intercourse with Hagar and his deceit in telling Abimelech
that Sara was his sister when she was his wife. He
also declares that Sara typifies the Church, which is the
secret spouse of Christ. Proceeding further, he does not
justify, but palliates, the conduct of Lot and his daughters,
and then introduces its typological significance. At length
he comes to David. First he gives a noble estimate of
David's character, his righteousness, his liability to sin, and
his quick penitence. ^ Afterwards he considers, briefly as he
says, what David's sin with Bathsheba signifies prophetically.^
The passage may be given to show what a mixture of
banality and disregard of moral propriety in drawing
analogies might emanate from the best mind among the
1 Contra Faustum, xxii. 1-5. ^ Contra Faustum, xxii. 66-68.
^ Augustine's method in this twenty-second Book is first to consider the actual
sinfulness or the justification of these deeds, and afterwards to take up in suc-
cession their typological significance. So, for example, he discusses the blame-
fulness of Judah's conduct with Tamar in par. 61-64 and its typology in 83-86.
cHAP.xxviii SCRIPTURAL ALLEGORIES 71
Latin Fathers, and be repeated by later transitional and
mediaeval commentators.
" The names themselves when interpreted indicate what this
deed prefigured. David is interpreted ' Strong of hand ' or
' Desirable.' And what is stronger than that Lion of the
tribe of Judah that overcame the world ? and what is more
desirable than him of whom the prophet says : ' The desired
of all nations shall come ' (Hag. ii. 7) ? Bathsheba means ' well
of satiety,' or ' seventh well.' Whichever of these interpreta-
tions we adopt will suit. For in Canticles the Bride who is
the Church is called a well of Uving water (Cant. iv. 15) ; and
to this well the name of the seventh number is joined in the
sense of Holy Spirit ; and this because of Pentecost (the fiftieth),
the day on which the Holy Spirit came. For that same festival
is of the weeks {de septinianis constare) as the Book of Tobit
testifies. Then to forty-nine, which is seven times seven, one is
added, whereby unity is commended. By this spiritual, that is
' Seven-natured ' {septenario) gift, the Church is made a weU of
satiety ; because there is made in her a well of hving water
springing up unto everlasting life, which whoso has shall never
thirst (John iv. 14). Uriah, indeed, who had been her husband,
what but devil does his name signify ? In whose vilest wedlock
all those were bound whom the. grace of God sets free, that the
Church without spot or wrinkle may be married to her own
Saviour. For Uriah is interpreted, ' My light of God ' ; and
Hittite means ' cut off,' or he who does not stand in truth, but
by the guilt of pride is cut off from the supernal light which he
had from God ; or it means, he who in falling away from his true
strength which was lost, nevertheless fashioneth himself into an
angel of Ught (2 Cor. xi. 14), daring to say : ' My hght is of God.'
Therefore this David gravely and wickedly sinned ; and God
rebuked his crime through the prophet with a threat ; and he
himself washed it away by repenting. Yet likewise He, the
desired of all nations, was enamoured of the Church bathing
upon the roof, that is cleansing herself from the filth of the world,
and in spiritual contemplation surmounting and trampling on her
house of clay ; and knowledge of her having been had at their first
meeting. He afterwards killed the devil, apart from her, and joined
her to himself in perpetual marriage. Therefore we hate the sin
but will not quench the prophecy. Let us love that {ilium)
David, who is so greatly to be loved, who through mercy freed us
from the devil ; and let us also love that [istum] David who by the
humihty of penitence healed in himself so deep a wound of sin."^
^ Contra Faustum, xxii. 87. St. Ambrose, in his Apologia Prophetae David
cap. iii. (Migne 14, col. 857), written some years before Augustine's treatise
72 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
Augustine's interpretation of the story of David and
Bathsheba was embodied verbatim in a work upon the Old
Testament by Isidore of Seville. ^ The voluminous commen-
tator Rabanus Maurus took the same, also verbatim, either
from Isidore or Augustine. ^ His pupil, Walafrid Strabo,
in his famous Glossa ordinaria, cited, probably from
Rabanus, the first part of the passage as far as the reference
to the well of living water from John's Gospel. He abridged
the matter somewhat, thus showing the smoothing compiler's
art which was to bring his Glossa ordinaria into such
general use. Walafrid omitted the lines declaring that Uriah
signified the devil. He did cite, however, again probably
from Rabanus, part of a long passage, taken by Rabanus
from Gregory the Great, where Bathsheba is declared to be
the letter of the Law, united to a carnal people, which David
(Christ) joins to himself in a spiritual sense. Uriah is that
carnal people, to wit, the Jews.^
Thus far as to the comments on the narrative from the
eleventh chapter of the Second Book of Samuel, otherwise
called the Second Book of Kings. When Rabanus came to
explain the sixth verse of the first chapter of Matthew —
" And David begat Solomon from her who was the wife of
Uriah " — ^he said : " Uriah indeed, that is interpreted ' My
light of God,' signifies the devil, who fashions himself into an
angel of light, daring to say to God : ' My light of God,' and
' I will be like unto the Most High ' (Isaiah xiv.)." * Here
pupil Walafrid follows his master, but adds : " Whose be-
wedded Church Christ became enamoured of from the terrace
of His paternal majesty and joined her, made beautiful to
himself in matrimony." ^
With Rabanus and Walafrid, as with Isidore and the
Venerable Bede who were the links between these Carolingians
against Faustus, finds Bathsheba to signify the " congregatio nationum quae non
erat Christo legitimo quodam fidei copulata connubio."
^ Quaestiones in Vet. Testam. in Regum II. (Migne 83, col. 411). Isidore
died A.D. 636 (ante, Chapter V.).
2 Comment, in Libros IV. Regum, in lib. ii. cap. xi. ; Migne, Pat. Lat. 109,
col. 98 (written in 834). On Rabanus and Walafrid see ante, Chapter X.
^ Glossa ordinaria. Lib. Regum, ii. cap. xi. (Migne 113, col. 571, 572).
* Comment, in Matthaeum (Migne 107, col. 734).
^ Migne 114, col. 67.
CHAP. XXVIII SCRIPTURAL ALLEGORIES 73
and the Fathers, the interest in Scripture relates to its
allegorical significance. Unmindful of the obvious and
literal meaning of the text, they were unabashed by the
incongruity of their allegorical interpretations.^ Rabanus,
for instance, had unbounded enthusiasm for Exodus, because
of its rich symbolism :
" Among the Scriptures embraced in the Pentateuch of the
Law, the Book of Exodus excels in merit ; in it almost all the
sacraments by which the present Church is founded, nourished,
and ruled, are figuratively set forth. For there, through the
corporeal exit of the children of Israel from the terrestrial Egypt,
our exit from the spiritual Egypt is made clear. There again,
through the crossing of the Red Sea and the submersion of
Pharaoh and the Egyptians, the mystery of Baptism and the
destruction of spiritual enemies are figured. There the immola-
tion of the typifying lamb and the celebration of the Passover
suggest the passion of the true Lamb and our redemption. There
manna from heaven and drink from a rock are given in order to
teach us to desire the heavenly bread and the drink di life. There
precepts and judgments are delivered to the people of God upon
a mountain in order that we may learn to be subject to supernal
discipline. There the construction of the tabernacle and its
vessels is ordered to take place with worship and sacrifices, that
therein the adornment of the marvellous Church and the rites of
spiritual sacrifices may be indicated. There the perfumes of
incense and aftointment are prepared, in order that the sancti-
fication of the Holy Spirit and the mystery of sacred prayers
may be commended to us." ^
The same commentator compiled a dictionary of allegories
1 It was the way of Bede in his commentaries to speak briefly of the literal
or historic meaning of the text, and then give the usual symbolical interpretations,
paying special attention to the significance of the Old Testament narratives as
types of the career of Christ (see e.g. the beginning of the Commentary on
Exodus, Migne 92, col. 285 sqq., and Prologue to the allegorical Commentary
on Samuel, Migne 92, col. 501, 502). For example, in the opening of the First
Book of Samuel, Elkanah is a type of Christ, and his two wives Peninnah and
Hannah represent the Synagogue and the Church. When Samuel is born to
Hannah he also is a type of Christ ; and Bede says it need not astonish one that
Hannah's spouse and Hannah's son should both be types of Christ, since the
Mediator between God and man is at once the spouse and son of Holy Church :
He is her spouse as He aids her with His confidence and hope and love, and her
son when by grace He enters the hearts of those who beUeve and hope and love.
In Samuelam, cap. iii. (Migne 91, col. 508.) Bede's monastic mind balked at
the literal statement that Elkanah had two wives (see the Prologue, Migne 91,
col. 499).
^ Com. in Exodum, Praefatio (Migne 108, col. 9).
74 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
entitled Allegoriae in universam sacrum scripturam,^ saying
in his lumbering Preface :
" Whoever desires to arrive at an understanding of Holy
Scripture should consider when he should take the narrative
historically, when allegorically, when anagogically, and when
tropologically. For these four ways of understanding, to wit,
history, allegory, tropology, anagogy, we call the four daughters
of wisdom, who cannot fully be searched out without a prior
knowledge of these. Through them Mother Wisdom feeds her
adopted children, giving to tender beginners drink in the milk of
history ; to those advancing in faith, the food of allegory ; to
the strenuous and sweating doers of good works, satiety in the
savoury refection of tropology ; and finally, to those raised from
the depths through contempt of the earthly and through heavenly
desire progressing towards the summit, the sober intoxication of
theoretical contemplation in the wine of anagogy. . . . History,
through the ensample which it gives of perfect men, incites the
reader to the imitation of hoHness ; allegory, in the revelation of
faith, leads to a knowledge of truth ; tropology, in the instruction
of morals, to a love of virtue ; anagogy, in the display of ever-
lasting joys, to a desire of eternal fehcity. In the house of our
soul, history lays the foundation, allegory erects the walls, anagogy
puts on the roof, while tropology provides ornament, within
through the disposition, without through the effect, of the good
work." 2
This work, alphabetically arranged, gave the allegorical
significations of words used in the Vulgate, with examples ;
for instance :
" Ager (field) is the world, as in the Gospel : ' To the man
who sowed good seed in his field,' that is to Christ, who sows
preaching through the world.
1 Migne 112, col. 849-1088. A number of these dictionaries were compiled,
the earliest being the De formulis spintalis intellegentiae of Eucherius, Bishop
of Lyons, who died in 450, ed. by Pauly 1884. In the later Middle Ages, Alanus
de Insulis (post. Chapter XXX.) compiled one.
* These distinctions, not commonly observed, are frequently reiterated. Says
Hugo of St. Victor (see post. Chapter XXIX.) in the Prologue to his De sacramentis :
" Divine Scripture, with threefold meaning, considers its matter historically,
allegorically, and tropologically. History is the narrative of facts, and follows
the primary meaning of words ; we have allegory when the fact which is told
signifies some other fact in the past, present, or future ; and tropology when
the narrated fact signifies that something should be done." Cf. Hugo's Didas-
calicon, v. cap. 2, where Hugo illustrates his meaning, and points out that this
threefold significance is not to be found in every passage of Scripture. In ibid.
v. cap. 4, he gives seven curious rules of interpretation (Migne 176, col. 789-793).
In his De Scripturis, etc., praenotatiunculae, cap. 3 (Migne 175, col. 11 sqq.), Hugo
speaks of the anagogical significance in the place of the tropological.
CHAP. XXVIII SCRIPTURAL ALLEGORIES 75
" Amicus (friend) is Christ, as in Canticles : ' He is my friend,
daughters of Jerusalem,' for He loved His Church so much that
He would die for her. . . .
" Ancilla (handmaid) is the Church, as in the Psalms :
' Make safe the son of thine handmaid,' that is me, who am a
member of the Church. Ancilla, corruptible flesh, as in Genesis :
' Cast out the handmaid and her son,' that is, despise the flesh and
its carnal fruit. Ancilla, preachers of the Church, as in Job :
' He will bind her with his handmaids,^ because the Lord through
His preachers conquered the devil. Ancilla, the effeminate minds
of the Jews, as in Job : ' Thy handmaids hold me as a stranger,'
because the effeminate minds of the Jews knew me through faith.^
Ancilla, the lowly, as in Genesis, ' and meal for his handmaids,'
because Holy Church affords spiritual refection to the lowly.
Aqua is the Holy Spirit, Christ, subtle wisdom, loquacity,
temporal greed, baptism, the hidden speech of the prophets, the
holy preaching of Christ, compunction, temporal prosperity,
adversity, human knowledge, this world's wealth, the hteral
meaning, carnal pleasure, eternal reflection, holy angels, souls of
the blessed, saints, humihty's lament, the devotions of the saints,
sins of the elect which God condones, knowledge of the heretics,
persecutions, unstable thoughts, the blandishments of tempta-
tions, the pleasures of the wicked, the punishments of hell.
Mons, mountain (in the singular) the Virgin Mary, monies
(in the plural) angels, apostles, subhme precepts, the two Testa-
ments, inner meditations, proud men, the Gentiles, evil spirits.^
Thus Rabanus dragged into his compilation every mean-
ing that had ever been ascribed to the words defined. In
him and his contemporaries, the allegorical material, apart
1 Raban's Latin is " Ligabit earn ancillis suis " — thie verse in Job. xl. 24
reads " Ligabis earn ancillis tuis ? " In the English version the verse is Job
xli. 5, " Wilt thou bind him for thy maidens ? "
2 " Per fidem me cognoverunt " ; I surmise a non is omitted.
* I have omitted the Scriptural citations. Rabanus wrote an allegorical De
laudibus sanctae cruets (Migne 107, col. 133-294), composed in metre with prose
explanations, which explain very little. The metrical portion is a puzzle con-
sisting of twenty-eight " figures," or lineal delineations interwoven in hexameter
verses ; the words and letters contained within each figure " make sense " when
read by themselves, and form verses in metres other than hexameters. The
whole is as incomprehensible in meaning as it is indescribable in form. Angels,
cherubim and seraphim, tetragons, the virtues, months, winds, elements, signs of
the Zodiac, and other twelvefold mysteries, the days of the year, the number
seven, the five books of Moses, the four evangelists, the seven gifts of the Holy
Spirit, the eight beatitudes, the mystery of the number forty, the sacrament
shown by the number fifty, — all these and much besides contribute to the glory
of the Cross, and are delineated and arranged in cruciform manner, so as to be
included within the scope of the cross's symbolical significance.
76 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
from its utility for salvation, seems void of human interest or
poetic quality, as yet unstirred by a breath, of life. That was
to enter when allegory and all manner of symbolism began
to form the temper of mediaeval thought, and become a
chosen vessel of the mediaeval spirit in poetry and art. The
vital change had taken place before the twelfth century had
turned its first quarter. ^
There flourished at this time a worthy monk named
Honorius of Autun, also called " the Solitary." It has
been argued, and vehemently contradicted, that he was of
German birth. At all events, monk he was and teacher at
Autun. Those about him sought his instruction, and also
requested him to put his discourses into writing for their use ;
their request reads as if at that time Honorius had retired
from among them.^ This is all that is known of the man who
composed the most popular handbook of sermons in the
Middle Ages. ItwascaWed the Speculum ecclesiae. Honorius
may never have preached these sermons ; but still his book
exists with sermons for Sundays, saints' days, and other
Church festivals ; a sermon also to be preached at Church
dedications, and one " sermo generalis," very useful, since it
touched up all orders of society in succession, and a preacher
might take or omit according to his audience. Before
beginning, the preacher is directed to make the sign of the
cross and invoke the Holy Spirit : he is admonished first to
pronounce his text of Scripture in the Latin tongue, and then
expound it in the vernacular ; ^ he is instructed as to what
portions of certain sermons should be used under special
circumstances, and what parts he may omit in winter when
the church is cold, or when in summer it is too hot ; or
this is left quite to his discretion : " Here make an end
if you wish ; but if time permits, continue thus."
^ Since allegory and the spirit of symbolism pervaded all mediaeval thought,
the present and two following chapters aim only at setting forth the elements
(with pertinent examples) of this quite limitless subject.
" See prefatory epistle to Speculum ecclesiae, Migne 172, col. 8r3. Com-
pare the prefatory epistle to the Gemma animae, ibid. col. 541, and the
Preface to the Elucidarium, ibid. col. 1109. Probably Honorius died about
1130. Cf. J. A. Endres, Honorius Augustodensis (Augsburg, 1906).
* We have these sermons only in Latin. Presumably a preacher using
them, gave them in that language or rendered them in the vernacular as he
thought fit.
CHAP. XXVIII SCRIPTURAL ALLEGORIES yy
Most of these sermons are short, and contain much
excellent moral advice put simply and directly. They also
make constant use of allegory, and evidently Honorius's
chief care in their composition was to expound his text
allegorically and point the allegory's application to the needs
of his supposed audience. Neither he nor any man of his
time devised many novel allegorical interpretations ; but the
old ones had at length become part of the mediaeval spirit
and the regular means of apprehending the force and
meaning of Scripture. Consequently Honorius handles his
allegories more easily, and makes a more natural human
application of them, than Rabanus or Walafrid had done.
Sometimes the allegory seems to ignore the moral lesson
of the literal facts ; but while a smile may escape us in
reading Honorius, the allegories in his sermons are rarely
strained and shocking, likewise rarely dull. A general
point from which he regards the narratives and institutions
of the Old Testament is summed up in his statement, that
for us Christ turned all provisions of the law into spiritual
sacraments.^ The whole Old Testament has pre-figurative
significance and spiritual meaning ; and likewise every narra-
tive in the Gospels is spiritual.
Two or three examples will illustrate Honorius's edifying
way of using allegory. His sermon for the eleventh Sunday
after Pentecost is typical of his manner. The text is from
the thirty-first ^ Psalm : " Blessed is the man to whom the
Lord will not impute sin." Opening with an exhortation to
penitence and tears and almsgiving, the preacher turns to
the self-righteous " whose obstinacy the Lord curbs in the
Gospel for the day, telling how two went up into the temple
to pray, the one a Pharisee, to wit, one of the Jewish clergy,
the other a Publican." After proceeding for a while with
sound and obvious comment on the situation, Honorius says :
" By the two men who went up into the temple to pray, two
peoples, the Jewish and the Gentile, are meant. The Pharisee
who went close to the altar is the Jewish people, who possessed the
^ " Ommia legalia Christus nobis convertit in sacramenta spiritualia " is
Honorius's apt phrase (which may be borrowed !), Migne 172, col. 842. His
special reference is to circumcision.
* Ps. xxxi. Vulgate ; Ps. xxxii. 2, Authorized Version.
78 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
Sanctuary and the Ark. He tells aloud his merits in the temple,
because in the world he boasts of his observance of the law.
" The Publican who stands afar off is the Gentile people, who
were far off from the worship of God. He did not Uf t up his eyes
to heaven, because the Gentile was agape at the things of earth.
He beat his breast when he bewailed his error through penitence ;
and because he humbled himself in confession, God exalted him
through pardon. Let us also, beloved, thus stand afar off,
deeming ourselves unworthy of the holy sacraments and the
companionship of the saints. Let us not lift up our eyes to
heaven, but deem ourselves unworthy of it. Let us beat our
breasts and punish our misdeeds with tears. Let us fall prostrate
before God ; and let us weep in the presence of the Lord who
made us, so that He may turn our lament to joy, rend asunder
our garb of mourning, and clothe us with happiness."
Honorius lingers a moment with some further exhortations
suggested by his parable, and then turns to the edification to
be found in fables wisely composed by profane writers. Let
not the congregation be scandalized ; for the children of
Israel despoiled the Egyptians of gold and gems and precious
vesture, which they afterwards devoted to completing the
tabernacle. Pious Christians spoil the Egyptians when they
turn profane studies to spiritual account. The philosophers
tell of a woman bound to a revolving wheel, her head now
up, now down. The wheel is this world's glory, and the
woman is that fortune which depends on it. Again, they
tell of one who tries to roll a stone to the top of a mountain ;
but, near the top, it hurls the wretch prostrate with its weight
and crashes back to the bottom ; and again, of one whose
liver is eaten by a vulture, and, when consumed, grows
again. The man who pushes up the stone is he who toil-
somely amasses dignities, to be plunged by them to hell ;
and he of the liver is the man upon whose heart lust feeds.
From that pest, they say, Medusa sprang, with noble form
exciting many to lust, but with her look turning them to
stone. She is wantonness, who turns to stone the hearts
of the lewd through their lustful pleasure. Perseus slew her,
covering himself with his crystalline shield ; for the strong
man, gazing into virtue's mirror, averts his heart's counte-
nance [i.e. from wantonness). The sword with which he
kills her is the fear of everlasting fire.
CHAP. XXVIII SCRIPTURAL ALLEGORIES 79
Then, continues Honorius, we read of a boy brought up
by one of the Fathers in a hermitage ; but as he grew to
youth he was tickled with lust. The Father commanded
him to go alone into the desert and pass forty days in
fasting and prayer. When some twenty days had passed,
there appeared a naked woman foul and stinking, who thrust
herself upon him, and he, unable to endure her stench, began
to repel her. At which she asked : " Why do you shudder
at the sight of me for whom you burned ? I am the image
of lust, which appears sweet to men's hearts. If you had
not obeyed the Father, you would have been overthrown by
me as others have been." So he thanked God for snatching
him from the spirit of fornication. Many other examples
lead us to the path of life.
Honorius closes with the story of the " Three Fools,"
observed by a certain Father : the first an Ethiopian who was
unable to move a faggot of wood, which he would continually
unbind and make still heavier by adding further sticks ; the
second, a man pouring water into a vase which had no
bottom ; and, thirdly, the two men who came bearing before
them crosswise a beam of wood ; as they neared the city gate
neither would let the other precede him even a little, and so
both remained without. The Ethiopian who adds to his in-
supportable faggot is he who continually increases his weight of
sin, adding new sins to old ones unrepented of ; he who pours
water into the vase with no bottom is he who by his unclean-
ness loses the merit of his good acts ; and the two who bear
the beam crosswise are those bound by the yoke of Pride. ^
Such are good examples of the queer stories to which
preachers resorted. One notices that whatever be the source
from which Honorius draws, his interest is always in the
allegory found in the narratives. Another very apt example
of his manner is his treatment of the story of the Good
Samaritan, so often depicted on Gothic church windows.
For us this parable carries an exhaustless wealth of direct
application in human life ; it was regarded very differently
by Honorius and the glass painters, whose windows are a
pictorial transcription of the first half of his sermon. ^
1 speculum ecclesiae, " Dominica XI." (Migne 172, col. 1053 sqq.).
" Yet, curiously enough, near the time when I was making the following
translation, I heard an elderly country clergyman preach substantially this sermon
t
8o THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
" Blessed is the man who walketh not in the counsel of
the ungodly " — this is the text ; and Honorius proceeds :
" Adam was the unhappy man who through the counsel of
the wicked departed from his native land of Paradise and dragged
all his descendants into this exile. He thus stood in the way of
sinners, because he remained stable in sin. He sat ' in the seat
of the scornful,' because by evil example he taught others to sin.
But Christ arose, the blessed man who walketh in the counsel of
the Father from the hall of heaven into prison after the lost
servant. He did not walk in the counsel of the ungodly when the
devil showed Him all the kingdoms of the world ; He did not
stand in the way of sinners, because he committed no sin ; He did
not sit in the seat of the scornful, since neither by word nor deed
did He teach evil. Thus as that unhappy man drew all his carnal
children into death, this blessed man brought all His sons to hfe.
As He himself sets forth in the Gospel : ' A certain man went
down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and robbers attacked and
wounded him, stripped him and went away. And by chance
there came that way a certain priest, who seeing him half-dead,
crossed to the other side. Likewise a Levite passed by when he
had seen him. But a Samaritan coming that same way, had
compassion on the poor wretch, bound up his wounds and poured
in oil and wine, and setting him on his own beast, brought him
to an inn. The next day he gave the innkeeper two pence and
asked that he care for him, and if more was needed He promised
to repay the innkeeper on His return.
" Surely man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho when our
first parent from the joys of Paradise entered death's eclipse.
For Jericho, which means moon, designates the ecHpse of our
mortaUty. Whereby man fell among thieves, since a swarm of
demons at once surrounded the exile. Wherefore also they
despoiled him, since they stripped him of the riches of Paradise
and the garment of immortality. They gave him wounds, for
sins flowed in upon him. They left him half-dead, because dead
in soul. The priest passed down the same way, as the Order of
Patriarchs proceeded along the path of mortality. The priest
left him wounded, having no power to aid the human race while
himself sore wounded with sins. The Levite went that way,
inasmuch as the Order of Prophets also had to tread the path of
death. He too passed by the wounded man, because he could
bear no human aid to the lost while himself groaning under the
wounds of sin. The wretch half-dead was healed by the
Samaritan, for the man set apart through Christ is made whole.
of Honorius — wherever he may have culled it, perhaps from some useful
" Homiletical " Commentary.
CHAP. XXVIII SCRIPTURAL ALLEGORIES 8i
" Samaria was the chief city of the IsraeUtish kingdom whose
chiefs were led away to idolatry in Nineveh, and Gentiles were
placed in her. The Jews abhorred their fellowship, making
them a byword of malediction. So when revihng the Lord, they
called Him a Samaritan. The Lord was the true Samaritan,
being called guardian {custos) since the human race is guarded by
Him. He went down this way when from heaven He came into
this world. He saw the wounded traveller, inasmuch as He saw
man held in misery and sin. He was moved with compassion
for him, since for man He undergoes aU pains. Approaching, He
bound his wounds when, proclaiming eternal hfe. He taught man
to cease from sin. He bound his wounds together with the two
parts of the bandage when He quelled sins through two fears —
the servile fear which forbids through penalties, and the filial fear
which exhorts the holy to good works. He drew tight the lower
part of the bandage when He struck men's hearts with fear of
hell. Their worm. He said, does not die, and their fire is not
quenched. He drew tight the upper part when He taught the
fear which belongs to the study of good. ' The children of the
kingdom,' said He, ' shall be cast into outer darkness, where there is
weeping and gnashing of teeth.' He poured in wine and oil when
He taught repentance and pardon. He poured in wine when He
said, ' Repent ye ' ; He added oil when He said, ' for the kingdom
of heaven is at hand.' He set him upon His beast when He bore
our sins in His body on the Cross. He led him to the inn when
He joined him to the supernal Church. The inn, in which hving
beings are assembled at night, is the present Church, where the
just are harboured amid the darkness of this life until the Day
of Eternity blows and the shadows of mortality give way.
" The next day He tendered the two pence. The first day
was of death, th6-next of life. The day of death began with
Adam, when all die. The day of life took its beginning from
Christ, in whom all shall be made alive. Before Christ's
resurrection all men were travelling to death ; since His resurrec-
tion all the faithful have been rising to hfe. He tendered the
two pence the next day — when after His resurrection He taught
that the two Testaments were fulfilled by the two precepts of
love. He gave the pence to the innkeeper when He committed
the doctrine of the law of hfe to the Order of Doctors. He
directed him to tend the sick man when He commanded that
the human race should be saved from sin. The stench drove the
sick man from the inn, because this world's tribulation drives the
righteous to seek the things celestial. Two pence are given to
the innkeeper when the Doctors are raised on high by Scriptural
knowledge and temporal honour. If they should require more.
He repays them on His return ; for if they exemplify good preach-
VOL. II G
82 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
ing with good works, when the true Samaritan returns to judg-
ment and leads him, aforetime wounded but now healed, from
the inn to the celestial mansion, He will repay the zealous stewards
with eternal rewards." ^
Here Honorius proceeds to expound the allegory con-
tained in the healing of the dumb man and the ten lepers,
and closes his sermon with two narratives, one of a poor
idiot who sang the Gloria without ceasing, and was seen in
glory after death ; the other of a lay nun [conversa) around
whose last hours were shed sweet odours and a miraculous
light, while those present heard the chant of heavenly voices.
The parables of Christ present types which we may
apply in life according to circumstances. In the concrete
instance of the parable we find the universal, and we deem
Christ meant it so. Thus we also view the parables as
symbols, which they were. Honorius, with the vast company
of mediaeval and patristic expounders, ordinarily directs the
symbolism of the parables in a special mode, whereby — like
the stories of the Old Testament — they become figurative
of Christ and the needy soul of man, or figurative of the
Christian dispensation with its historical antecedents and its
Day of Judgment at the end.
The like may be said of Honorius's allegorical interpreta-
tion of Greek legends. These ancient stories have the
perennial youth of human charm and meaning ever new.
They had been good old stories to the Greeks, and then
acquired further intendment as later men discerned a broader
symbolism in them. Even in classic times, Homer's stories
had been turned to allegories, philosophers and critics some-
times finding in them a spiritual significance not unlike that
which the same tales may bear for us. But with this
difference : the later Greeks usually were trying to explain
away the somewhat untrammelled ways of the Homeric
pantheon, and therefore maintained that Homer's stories were
composed as allegories, the wise and mystic poet choosing
thus to veil his meaning. To-day we find the clarity of
daybreak in Homer's tales, and if we make symbols of them
we know the symbolism is not his but ours. Honorius
chooses to think that allegory had always lain in the old
^ speculum ecclesiae, " Dominica XIII." (Migne 172, col. 1059-1061).
cHAP.xxvm SCRIPTURAL ALLEGORIES 83
story ; he will not deem it the invention of himself or other
Christian writers. Here his attitude is not unlike that of the
apologetic Greek critics. But his interpretations are apt to
differ from theirs as well as from our own. For his symbolism
tends to abandon the broadly human, and to become, like
the mediaeval Biblical interpretations, figurative of the
tenets of the Christian Faith.
There is an interesting example of this in the sermon for
Septuagesima Sunday, which was written on a somewhat
blind text from the twenty-eighth chapter of Job. Honorius
proceeds expounding it through a number of strained
allegories, which he doubtless drew from Gregory's Moralia ;
for that great pope was the recognized expositor of Job, and
the Book of Job was simply Gregory through all the Middle
Ages. Perhaps Honorius felt that this sermon was rather
soporific. At all events he stops in the middle to give a
piece of advice to the supposed preacher : " Often put some-
thing of this kind in your sermon ; for so you will relieve
the tedium." And he continues thus :
" Brethren, on this holy day there is much to say which I
must pass over in silence, lest disgusted you should wish to leave
the church before the end. For some of you have come far and
must go a long way to reach your houses. Or perhaps, some
have guests at home, or crying babies ; or others are not swift
and have to go elsewhere, while to some a bodily infirmity brings
uneasiness lest they expose themselves. So I omit much for
everybody's sake, but still would say a few words.
" Because to-day, beloved, we have laid aside the song of
gladness and taken up the song of sadness, I would briefly tell
you something from the books of the pagans, to show how you
should reject the melody of this world's pleasures in order that
hereafter with the angels you may make sweet harmonies in
heaven. For one should pick up a gem found in dung and set it
as a kingly ornament ; thus if we find anything useful in pagan
books we should turn it to the building up of the Church, which
is Christ's spouse. The wise of this world write that there were
three Syrens in an island of the sea, who used to chant the sweetest
song in divers tones. One sang, another piped, the third played
upon a lyre. They had the faces of women, the talons and wings
of birds. They stopped all passing ships with the sweetness of
their song ; they rent the sailors heavy with sleep ; they sank
the ships in the brine. When a certain duke, Ulysses, had to sail
by their island, he ordered his comrades to bind him to the mast
84 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
and stuff their ears with wax. Thus he escaped the peril un-
harmed, and plunged the Syrens in the waves. These, beloved,
are mysteries, although written by the enemies of Christ. By
the sea is to be understood this age which rolls beneath the
unceasing blasts of tribulations. The island is earth's joy, which
is intercepted by crowding pains, as the shore is beat upon by
crowding waves. The three S5n:ens who with sweet caressing
song overturn the navigators in sleep, are three delights which
soften men's hearts for vice and lead them into the sleep of death.
She who sings with human voice is Avarice, and to her hearers
thus she tunes her song : ' Thou shouldst get together much, so
as to be able to spread wide thy fame, and also visit the Lord's
sepulchre and other places, restore churches, aid the poor and thy
relatives as well.' With such baneful song she charms the miser's
heart, until the sleep of death oppresses him. Then she tears
his flesh, the wave devours the ship, and the wretch by fierce
pains is waked from his riches and plunged in eternal flame.
She who plays upon the pipe is Vainglory [Jactantia), and thus
she pipes her lay for hers : ' Thou art in thy youth, and noble ;
make thyself appear glorious. Spare no enemies, but kill them
all when able. Then people will call thee a good knight.' Again
will she chant : ' Thou shouldst win Jerusalem, and give great
alms. Then thou wilt be famous, and wilt be called good by all.'
To the lay brethren {conversis) she sings : ' Thou must fast ^nd
pray always, singing with loud voice. Then wilt thou hear
thyself lauded as a saint by all.' Such song with vain heart she
makes resound till the whirlpool of death devours the wretch
emptied of worth.
" She who sings to a lyre is Wantonness (Luxuria), and she
chants melodies hke these to her parasites : ' Thou art in thy
youth ; now is the time to sport with the girls — old age will do to
reform in. Here is one with a fine figure ; this one is rich ; from
this one you would gain much. There is plenty of time to save
your soul.' In such way she melts the hearts of the wanton till
Cocytus's waves engulf them suddenly tripped by death.
" They have the faces of women, because nothing so estranges
man from God as the love of women. They have wings of birds,
because the desire of worldlings is always unstable, their appetites
now craving one thing, and again their lust fis^ng to another
object. They have also the talons of birds, because they tear
their victims as they snatch them away to the torments of hell.
Ulysses is called Wise. Unharmed he steers his course by the
island, because the truly wise Christian swims over the sea of this
world, in the ship of the Church. By the fear of God he binds
himself to the mast of the ship, that is, to the cross of Christ ;
with wax, that is with the incarnation of Christ, he seals the ears
CHAP. XXVIII
SCRIPTURAL ALLEGORIES 85
of his comrades, that they may turn their hearts from lusts and
vices and yearn only for heavenly things. The Syrens are sub-
merged, because he is protected from their lusts by the strength
of the Spirit. Unharmed the voyagers avoid the peril, inasmuch
as through victory they reach the joys of the saints." ^
^ speculum ecclesiae, " Dominica in Septuagesima " (Migne 172, col. 855-857).
Honorius may have forgotten the weariness of his supposed audience ; for his
sermon goes on with further admonition as to how the victory is to be won.
The allegorical interpretation of Scripture is exemplified in the whole limitless
mass of mediaeval sermons. Illustrations from St. Bernard's sermons on Canticles
are given in Chapter XVIII., also post, in Chapter XXXVII., 11.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE RATIONALE OF THE VISIBLE WORLD : HUGO OF
ST. VICTOR
Just as the Middle Ages followed the allegorical interpreta-
tion of Scripture elaborated by the Church Fathers, so they
also accepted, and even made more precise, the patristic
inculcation of the efficacy of such most potent symbols as the
water of baptism and the bread and wine transubstantiated
in the Eucharist.^ Passing onward from these mighty bases
of conviction, the mediaeval genius made fertile use of
allegory in the polemics of Church and State, and exalted
the symbolical principle into an ultimate explanation of the
visible universe.
Notable was the career of allegory in politics. Through-
out the long struggle of the Papacy with the Empire and
other secular monarchies, arguments drawn from allegory
never ceased to carry weight, A very shibboleth was the
witness of the " two swords " (Luke xxii. 38), both of which,
the temporal as well as spiritual, the Church held to have
been entrusted to her keeping for the ordering of earthly
affairs, to the end that men's souls should be saved. Still
more fluid was the argumentative nostrum of mankind con-
ceived as an Organism, or animate body {unum corpus,
corpus mysticum). This metaphor was found in more than
one of the Latin classics ; but patristic and mediaeval writers
took it from the works of Paul.^ The likeness of the human
body to the body politic or ecclesiastic was carried out
1 For the Eucharist in the Carolingian period see ante, Chapter X. Berengar
of Tours is spoken of in Chapter XII., iv.
2 Many members in one body, one body in Christ (Rom. xii. 4, 5).
86
CHAP. XXIX THE SYMBOLIC UNIVERSE 87
in every imaginable detail, and used acutely or absurdly
by politicians and schoolmen from the eleventh century
onward.i
We turn to the symbolical explanation of the universe.
In the first half of the twelfth century, a profoundly medita-
tive soul, Hugo of St. Victor by name, attempted a systematic
exposition of the symbolical or sacramental plan inhering in
God's scheme of creation. Of the man, as with so many
monks and schoolmen whose names and works survive, little
is known beyond the presentation of his personality afforded
by his writings. He taught in the monastic school of St.
Victor, a community that had a story, with which may be
connected the scanty facts of the short and happy pilgrimage
to God, which made Hugo's life on earth. ^
When William of Champeaux, according to Abaelard's
account, was routed from his logical positions in the
cathedral school of Paris, ^ he withdrew from the school
and from the city to the quiet of a secluded spot on the
left bank of the Seine, not far distant from Notre-Dame.
Here was an ancient chapel dedicated to Saint- Victor, and
here William, with some companions, organized themselves
into a monastic community according to the rule of the
canons of St. Augustine. This was in 1108. If for a
time William laid aside his studies and lecturing, he soon
resumed them at the solicitations of his scholars, joined to
those of his friend Hildebert, Bishop of Le Mans.* And so
the famous school of Saint- Vict or began. William remained
there only four years, being made Bishop of Chalons in 1112,
and thereafter figuring prominently in Church councils,
frequent in France at this epoch.
1 Cf. post, Chapter XXXIV., v.
^ The works of Hugo of Saint- Victor are contained in Migne's Patrologia
Latina, 175-177 (Paris, 1854 ; the reprint of 1882 is' full of misprints).
The Prolegomena (in French) of Mgr. Hugonin are elaborate and valuable.
Mignon, Les Origines de la scholastique et Hugues de Saint-Victor (2 vols.,
Paris, 1895), follows Hugonin's writing and adds little of value. An exposition
of Hugo's philosophy is to be found in Stockl, Geschichfe der Philosophie des
Mittelalters, Band I. pp. 305-355 (Mainz, 1864). On the authenticity of the
writings ascribed to him see Haureau, Les CBuvres de Hugues de Saint-Victor
(2nd ed., Paris, 1886). For Hugo's position in the history of scholasticism and
mysticism see post. Chapter XXXVII., 11.
3 Post, Chapter XXXVII., i.
* Hildebert's letter is given post. Chapter XXXI., iii.
88 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
Under William's disciple and successor, Gilduin, the
community flourished and increased. King Louis VI.,
whose confessor was Gilduin himself, endowed it liberally,
and other donors were not lacking. Saint- Victor became
rich, and its fame for learning and holiness spread far and
wide.^ Abbot Gilduin lived to see more than forty houses
of monks or regular canons ^ flourishing as dependencies of
Saint- Victor. He died in 1155, some years after the death
of the young man whose scholarship and genius was the
pride of the Victorine community.
Notwithstanding a statement in an old manuscript, that
Hugo was born near Ypres in Flanders, the ancient tradition
of Saint- Victor, confirmed by the records of the cathedral of
Halberstadt, shows him to have been a son of the Count of
Blankemberg, and born at Hartingam in Saxony.^ His
uncle Reinhard was Bishop of Halberstadt, where his great-
uncle, named Hugo like himself, was archdeacon. Reinhard
had been a pupil of William of Champeaux at Saint- Victor,
and after becoming bishop continued to cherish a profound
esteem for him. The young Hugo renounced his inheritance
and entered a monastery not far from Halberstadt ; but
soon, in view of the disturbed affairs of Saxony, his uncle
Reinhard urged him to go and pursue his studies at Saint-
Victor. The young man persuaded his great-uncle Hugo
to accompany him. By circuitous routes, visiting various
places of pious interest on the way, the two reached Saint-
Victor, where they were received with all honour by the
abbot Gilduin. This was not far from the year 11 15, and
Hugo was about twenty at the time. He was already an
accomplished scholar, and doubtless it is to his previous
1 On the neighbouring schools of Notre-Dame and St. Genevieve see post,
Chapter XXXVIII.
^ At the opening of his Expositio in regulam beati Augustini, Migne 176,
col. 881, Hugo explains that the precepts under which a monastic community
lives are called the regula, and what we call a regula is called a canon by the
Greeks ; and those are called canonici or regulates, who " juxta regularia
praecepta sanctorum Patrum canonice atque apostolice vivunt." Thus the
" regular canons " of St. Augustine were monks who lived according to the rule
ascribed to that saint. In the case of the Victorines the rule was drawn up
chiefly by Abbot Gilduin. See Prolegomena to the works of Hugo, Migne 175,
col. xxiv. sqq.
* See the Prolegomena to the works of Hugo de Saint-Victor, by Hugonin,
Migne 175, col. xl. sqq.
CHAP. XXIX THE SYMBOLIC UNIVERSE 89
studies that he refers when he speaks as follows in his book
of elementary instruction, called the Didascalicon :
" I dare say that I never despised anything pertaining to
learning, and learned much that might strike others as hght and
vain. I practised memorizing the names of everything I saw or
heard of, thinking that I could not properly study the nature of
things unless I knew their names. Daily I examined my notes
of topics, that I might hold in my memory every proposition,
with the questions, objections, and solutions. I would inform
myself as to controversies and consider the proper order of the
argument on either side, carefully distinguishing what pertained
to the office of rhetoric, oratory, and sophistry. I set problems
of numbers ; I drew figures on the pavement with charcoal, and
with the figure before me I demonstrated the different qualities
of the obtuse, the acute and the right angle, and also of the
square. Often I watched out the nocturnal horoscope through
winter nights. Often I strung my harp {Saepe ad numerum
protensum in ligno magadam ducere solebam) that I might perceive
the different sounds and likewise delight my mind with the sweet
notes. All these were boyish occupations {puerilia) but not
useless. Nor does it burden my stomach to know them now." ^
Not long after Hugo's arrival at Saint-Victor he began
to teach at the monastery school, and upon the death of its
director, in 1133, succeeded to the office, which he held
until his death in 1141.^ Colourless and grey are the outer
facts of a monk's life, counting but little. The soul of a
Hugo of Saint- Victor did not soil itself with any interest
in the pleasures of the world : " He is not solitary with
whom is God, nor is the power of joy extinguished because
his appetite is kept from things abject and vile. He rather
does himself an injustice who admits to the society of his
joy what is disgraceful or unworthy of his love." ^
Hugo belonged to the aristocracy of contemplative piety,
with its scorn of whatever lies without the pale of the soul's
^ Didascalicon, vi. 3 (Migne 176, col. 799). Other contents of this work are
given post, Chapter XXXVII., i.
2 His death is touchingly described in a letter of Osbert, the canon in
charge of the infirmary. See Migne 175, col. xlvii. and clxi.
^ Hugo, De arrha animae, Migne 176, col. 954. Yet Hugo sometimes was
stung with an irrelevant pang for the German fatherland, which he had left : "I
have been an exile since my boyhood, and I know how the mind grieves to for-
sake some poor hut's narrow hearth, and how easUy it may then despise the marble
hall and fretted roof " [Didascalicon, ui. 20 ; Migne 176, col. 778). Compare the
single letter of Hugo that has a personal note, Ep. i. (Migne 176, col. loii).
go THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
companionship with God. In his independent way he
followed Augustine, and Augustine's Platonism, which was
so largely the Neo-Platonism of Plotinus and Porphyry. He
also followed the real Plato speaking in the Timaeus, with
which he was acquainted. Plato would have nothing to do
with allegorical interpretation as a defence of Homer's gods ;
but he could himself make very pretty allegories, and his
theory of ideas as at once types and creative intelligences
lent itself to Christian systems of symbolism. In this way
he was a spiritual ancestor of Hugo, who found in God the
type-ideas of all things that He created. Moreover, if not
Plato, at least his spiritual children — Clement of Alexandria,
Origen, Plotinus — ^recognized that the highest truths must
be known in modes transcending reason and its syllogisms,
although these were the necessary avenues of approach.
Hugo likewise regarded rational knowledge as but the
path by which the soul ascends to the plateau of con-
templation. The general aspects of his philosophy will be
considered in a later chapter. Here he is to be viewed as
a mediaeval symbolist, upon whom pressed a sense of the
symbolism of all visible things. An examination of his
great De sacramentis Christianae fidei will disclose that
with Hugo the material creation in its deepest verity is a
symbol ; that Scripture, besides its literal meaning, is allegory
from Genesis to Revelation ; that the means of salvation
provided by the Church are sacramental, and thus essentially
symbolical, consisting of perfected and potent symbols which
have been shadowed forth in the unperfected sacramental
character of all God's works from the beginning.^
Hugo's little Preface {praefatiuncula) mentions certain
requests made to him to write a book on the Sacraments.
In undertaking it, he proposes to present in better form
many things dictated from time to time rather negligently.
Whatever he has taken from his previous writings he has
revised as seemed best. Should there appear any in-
consistency between what he may have said elsewhere and
the language of the present work, he begs the reader to
regard the present as the better form of statement. His
1 The De sacramentis Christianae fidei is printed in Migne 176, col. 174-618.
It is thus a lengthy work.
CHAP. XXIX THE SYMBOLIC UNIVERSE 91
method will be to treat his matter in the order of time ;
and to this end his work is divided into two Books.
The first discusses the subject from the Beginning of the
World until the Incarnation of the Word ; the second
continues it from the Incarnation to the final Consummation
of all things. He explains that as he has elsewhere spoken
at length upon the primary or historical meaning of Holy
Writ/ he will devote himself here rather to its secondary or
allegorical significance.
Hugo further explains the subject of his treatise in a
Prologue :
" The work of man's restoration is the subject-matter {materia)
of all the Scriptures. There are two works, the work of founda-
tion and the work of restoration, which include everything
whatsoever. The former is the creation of the world with all its
elements ; the latter is the incarnation of the Word with all its
sacraments, those which went before from the beginning and those
which follow even to the end of the world. For the incarnate
Word is our King, who came into this world to fight the devil.
And all the saints who were before His coming, were as soldiers
going before His face ; and those who have come and will come
after, until the end of the world, are as soldiers who follow their
king. He is the King in the centre of His army, advancing girt
by His troops. And although in such a multitude divers shapes
of arms appear in the sacraments and observances of those who
precede and come after, yet all are soldiers under one king and
follow one banner ; they pursue one enemy and with one victory
are crowned. In all of this may be observed the work of
restoration.
" Scripture gives first a brief account of the work of creation.
For it could not aptly show how man was restored unless it had
previously explained how he had fallen ; nor could it show how
he had fallen, without first showing how God had made him, for
which in turn it was necessary to set forth the creation of the
whole world, because the world was made for man. The spirit
was created for God's sake ; the body for the spirit's sake, and
the world for the body's sake, so that the spirit might be subject
to God, the body to the spirit, and the world to the body. In
^ Hugo evidently refers to his De Scripturis et scriptoribus sacris prae-
notatiunculae, and his various Adnotationes elucidatoriae, which will be found
printed in vol. 175 of Migne's Patrologia Latina. In chap. v. of the work first
mentioned (Migne 175, col. 13) he speaks sensibly of the folly of those who profess
not to care for the literal historical meaning of the sacred text, but, in ignorance,
spring at once to very inept allegorical interpretations.
92 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
this order, therefore. Holy Scripture describes first the creation
of the world which was made for man ; then it tells how man
was made and set in the way of righteousness and disciphne ;
after that, how man fell ; and finaUy how he was restored
(reparatus)."
In these first little chapters of his Prologue, Hugo has
grouped his topics suggestively. The world was made for
man, and therefore the account of its creation is needed in
order to understand man. Moreover, that man's body exists
for his spirit's sake, at once suggests that a significance
beyond the literal meaning is likely to dwell in that account
of the material creation which enables us to understand
man. The soul needs instruction and guidance ; and God
in creating the world for man surely had in view his most
important interests, which were not those of his mortal body,
but those of his soul. So the creation of the world subserves
man's spiritual interests, and the divine account of it carries
spiritual instruction. The allegorical significance of the
world's creation, which answers to man's spiritual needs, is
as veritable and real as the facts of the world's material
foundation, which answers to the needs of his body. Thus
symbolism is rooted in the character and purpose of the
material creation ; it lies in the God-implanted nature of
things ; therefore the allegorical interpretation of the
Scriptures corresponds to their deepest meaning and the
revealed plan of God.
These principles underlie Hugo's exposition of the
Christian sacraments, whose unperfected prototypes existed
in the work of the Creation. No fact of sacred history, no
single righteous pre-Christian observance, was unaffiliated
with them. An adequate understanding of their nature
involves a fuU knowledge not only of Christian doctrine, but
of all other knowledge profitable to men — as Hugo clearly
indicates in the remaining portion of his Prologue :
" Whence it appears how much divine Scripture in subtle
profundity surpasses all other writings, not only in its matter
but in the way of treating it. In other writings the words alone
carry meaning : in Scripture not only the words, but the things
may mean something. Wherefore just as a knowledge of the
words is needed in order to know what things are signified, so a
knowledge of the things is needed in order to determine their
CHAP. XXIX THE SYMBOLIC UNIVERSE 93
mystical signification of other things which have been or ought to
be done. The knowledge of words falls under two heads :
expression, and the substance of their meaning. Grammar
relates only to expression, dialectic only to meaning, while rhetoric
relates to both. A knowledge of things requires a knowledge of
their form and of their nature. Form consists in external con-
figuration, nature in internal quality. Form is treated as number,
to which arithmetic apphes ; or as proportion, to which music
applies ; or as dimension, to which geometry apphes ; or as
motion, to which pertains astronomy. But physics (physica)
looks to the inner nature of things.
" It follows that all the natural arts serve Divine Science, and
the lower knowledge rightly ordered leads to the higher. History,
i.e. the historical meaning, is that in which words signify things,
and its servants, as already said, are the three sciences, grammar,
dialectic, and rhetoric. When, however, things signify facts
mystically, we have allegory ; and when things mystically
signify what ought to be done, we have tropology. These two
are served by arithmetic, music, geometry, astronomy, and
physics. Above and beyond all is that divine something to
which divine Scripture leads, either in allegory or tropology.
Of this the one part (which is in allegory) is right faith, and the
other (which is in tropology) is good conduct : in these consist
knowledge of truth and love of virtue, and this is the true
restoration of man." ^
Hugo has now stated his position. The rationale of the
world's creation lies in the nature of man. The Seven
Liberal Arts, and incidentally all human knowledge, in hand-
maidenly manner, promote an understanding of man as well
as of the saving teaching contained in Scripture-. This was
the common mediaeval view ; but Hugo proves it through
application of the principles of symbolism and allegorical
interpretation. By these instruments he orders the arts and
sciences according to their value in his Christian system, and
makes all human knowledge subserve the intellectual
economy of the soul's progress to God.
An exposition of the Work of the Six Days opens the
body of Hugo's treatise. God created all things from
nothing, and at once. His creation was at first unformed ;
not absolutely formless, but in the form of confusion, out of
which in the six days He wrought the form of ordered dis-
1 De sacramentis, Prologus (Migne 176, col. 183-185). A more elementary
statement may be foimd in De Scripiuris, etc., cap. xiii. (Migne 175, col. 20).
94 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
position. The first creation included the matter of corporeal
things and (in the angelic nature) the essence of things
invisible ; for the rational creature may be said to be un-
formed until it take form through turning unto its Creator,
whereby it gains beauty and blessedness from Him through
the conversion which is of love. Thus the matter of every
corporeal thing which God afterwards made, existed from
the time of His first creation, and likewise the image of
everything invisible. For although new souls are still
created every day, their image existed previously in the
angelic spirits.
Then God made light, the unformed material of which
He had created in the beginning.
" And at the very moment when light was visibly and cor-
poreally separated from darkness, the good angels were invisibly
set apart from the wicked angels who were falling in the darkness
of sin. The good were illumined and converted to the light of
righteousness, that they might be Hght and not darkness. Thus
we ought to perceive a consonance in the works of God, the
visible work conforming to the issue of the invisible in such wise
that the Wisdom which worked in both may in the former instruct
by an example and in the latter execute judgment."
The severance of light from darkness is the material
example of how God executes judgment in dividing the
good from the evil. In this visible work of God a " sacra-
ment " is discernible, since every soul, so long as it is in
sin, is in darkness and confusion. All the visible works of
God offer spiritual lessons {spiritualia praeferunt documenta) .
They have sacramental qualities, and yet are not perfected
and completed sacraments, as will hereafter appear from
Hugo's definition.
Following the order of creation, Hugo now speaks of
the firmament which God set in the midst of the waters to
divide them :
" He who believes that this was made for his sake will not look
for the reason of it outside of himself. For it all was made in the
image of the world within him ; the earth which is below, is the
sensual nature of man, and the heaven above is the purity of his
intelligence quickening to immortal life."
The rational and unseen are a world as well as the
CHAP. XXIX THE SYMBOLIC UNIVERSE 95
material and visible. The sacramental quality of the
material worid lies in its correspondence to the unseen
world. When Hugo speaks of the " sacramenta " in the
creation of light and the waters divided by the firmament,
he means that in addition to their material nature as light
and water, they are essentially symbols. Their symbolism
is as veritably part of their nature as the symbolical character
of the Eucharist is part of the nature of the consecrated
bread and wine. The sacraments are among the deepest
verities of the Christian Faith. And the same representative
verity that exists in them, exists, in less perfected mode,
throughout God's entire creation. So the argument carries
out the principles of the sacraments and the principles of
symbolism to a full explanation of the world ; and Hugo's
work upon the Sacraments presents his theory of the universe.
" Many other mysteries," says Hugo, closing the first " Part "
of his first Book, "could be pointed out in the work of the creation.
But we briefly speak of these matters as a suitable approach to
the subject set before us. For our purpose is to treat of the sacra-
ment of man's redemption. The work of creation was completed
in six days, the work of restoration in six ages. The latter work
we define as the Incarnation of the Word and what in and through
the flesh the Word performed, with all His sacraments, both those
which from the beginning prefigured the Incarnation and those
which follow to declare and preach it till the end."
It is unnecessary to follow Hugo through the discussion,
upon which he now enters, of the will, knowledge, and
power of the Trinity, or through his consideration of the
knowledge which man may have of God. In Part V. of
the first Book, he considers the creation of angels, their
qualities and nature, and the reasons why a part of them
fell. With Part VI. the creation of man is reached, which
Hugo shows to have been causally prior, though later in
time, to the creation of the world which God made for man.
From love God created rational creatures, the angels purely
spiritual, and man a spirit clothed with earth. ^ Hugo
1 God is perfect and utterly good. His beatitude cannot be increased or
diminished, but it can be imparted. Therefore the primal cause for creating
rational creatures was God's wish that there should be partakers of His beatitude.
This reasoning may be Christian ; but it is also close to the doctrine of Plato's
Timaeus, which Hugo had read.
96 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
considers the corporeal as well as the spiritual nature and
qualities of man, and his condition before the Fall. The
seventh Part is devoted to the Fall itself, and discusses its
character and sinfulness.
At length, in the eighth Part, Hugo reaches the true
subject of his treatise, the restoration of man. Man's first
sin of pride was followed by a triple punishment, consisting
in a penalty and two entailed defects, the penalty being
bodily mortality, the defects carnal concupiscence and
mental ignorance.
" Regarding his reparation three matters are to be considered,
the time, the place, the remedy. The time is the present life,
from the beginning to the end of the world. The place is this
world. ^ The remedy is threefold, and consists in faith, the
sacraments, and good works. Long is the time, that man may
not be taken unprepared. Hard is the place, that the trans-
gressor may be castigated. Efficacious is the remedy, that the
sick one may be healed."
Hugo then sets forth the situation, the case in court as
it were, to which God, the devil, and man, are the three
parties. In this trial
"... the devil is convicted of an injury to God in that he
seduced God's servant by fraud and holds him by violence. Man
also is convicted of an injury to God in that he despised His
command and wickedly gave himself to evil servitude. Likewise
the devil is convicted of an injury toward man, in first deceiving
him and then bringing evil upon him. The devil holds man
unjustly, though man is justly held."
Since the devil's case against man was unjust, man
might defeat his lordship ; but he needed an advocate
(patronus), which could be only God. God, angry at man's
sin, did not wish to undertake man's cause. He must be
placated ; and man had no equivalent to offer for the injury
he had done Him ; for he had deserted God when rational
and innocent, and could deliver himself back to God, only as
an irrational and sinful creature. Therefore, in order that
1 Hugo also takes a wider view of the " place " of mankind's restoration,
and finds that it includes (i) heaven, where the good are confirmed and made
perfect ; (2) hell, where the bad receive their deserts ; (3) the fire of purgatory,
where there is correction and perfecting ; (4) paradise the place of good beginnings ;
and (5) the world, the place of pilgrimage for those who need restoring.
CHAP. XXIX THE SYMBOLIC UNIVERSE 97
man might have wherewithal to placate God, God through
mercy gave man a man whom man might give in place of
him who had sinned. God became man for man and as
man gave himself for man. Thus He who had been man's
Creator became also his Redeemer. God might have
redeemed man in some other way, but took the way of
human nature as best suited to man's weakness.
After our first parent had been exiled from Paradise for
his sin, the devil possessed him violently. But God's
providence tempered justice with mercy, and from the
penalty itself prepared a remedy.
" He set for man as a sign the sacraments of his salvation, in
order that whoever would apprehend them with right faith and
firm hope, might, though under the yoke, have some fellowship
with freedom. He set His edict informing and instructing man,
so that whoever should elect to expect a saviour, should prove his
vow of election in observance of the sacraments. The devil also
set his sacraments, that he might know and possess his own more
surely. The human race was at once divided into opposite
parties, some accepting the devil's sacraments and some the
sacraments of Christ. . . . Hence it is clear, that from the
beginning there were Christians in fact, if not in name."
Hugo proceeds to show that the time of the institution
of the sacraments began when our first parent, expelled from
Paradise, was subjected to the exile of this mortal life, with
all his posterity until the end.
" As soon as man had fallen from his first state of incorruption,
he began to be sick, in body through his mortality, in mind
through his iniquity. Forthwith God prepared the medicine of
his reparation through His sacraments. In divers times and
places God presented these for man's healing, as reason and the
cause demanded, some of them before the Law, some under the
Law and some under grace. Though different in form they had the
one effect and accomplished the one health. If any one inquires
the period of their appointment he may know that as long as there is
disease so long is the time of the medicine. The present life, from
the beginning to the end of the world, is the time of sickness and the
time of the remedy. When a sacrament has fulfilled its time it
ceases, and others take its place, to bring about that same health.
These in turn have been succeeded at last by others, which are
not to be superseded."
VOL. II H
98 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
Having followed Hugo's plan thus far, one sees why it is
only at the commencement of the ninth Part of his first Book
that he reaches the definition and discussion of those final
and enduring sacraments which followed the Incarnation.
He has hitherto been developing his theme, and now takes up
its very essence. Laying out the matter scholastically, he
says " there are four things to consider : first, what is a
sacrament ; second, why they were instituted ; third, what
may be the material of each sacrament, in which it is made
and sanctified ; and fourth, how many sacraments there are.
This is the definition, cause, material, and classification."
Proceeding to the definition, he says that the doctors
have briefly described a sacrament as the token of the sacred
substance {sacrae rei signum).
" For as there is body and soul in man, and in Scripture the
letter and the sense, so in every sacrament there is the visible
external which may be handled and the invisible within, which is
believed and taught. The material external is the sacrament,
and the invisible and spiritual is the sacrament's substance {res)
or virtus. The external is handled and sanctified ; that is the
signum of the spiritual grace, which is the sacrament's res and is
invisibly apprehended."
Having thus explained the old definition, Hugo objects
to it on the ground that not every signum rei sacrae is a
sacrament ; the letters of the sacred text and the pictures of
holy things are signa rei sacrae, and yet are not sacraments.
He therefore offers the following definition as adequate :
" The sacrament is the corporeal or material element set out
sensibly, representing from its similitude, signifying from its
institution, and containing from its sanctification, some invisible
and spiritual grace." ^
This, he maintains, is a perfect definition, since all sacra-
ments possess these three qualities, and whatever lacks them
cannot properly be called a sacrament. As an example
he instances the baptismal water :
1 " Sacramentum est corporale vel materiale elementum foris sensibiliter
propositum ex similitudine repraesentans, et ex institutione significans, et ex
sanctificatione continens aliquam invisibilem et spiritalem gratiam " (pars ix. 2 ;
Migne 176, col. 317). In spite of Hugo the old definition held its ground, being
adopted by Peter Lombard and others after him.
CHAP. XXIX THE SYMBOLIC UNIVERSE 99
" There is the visible element of water, which is the sacrament ;
and these three are found in one : representation from simihtude,
significance from appointment, virtue from sanctification. The
similitude is from creation, the appointment from dispensation,
the sanctification from benediction. The first is imparted to it
through the Creator, the second is added through the Saviour,
the third is given through the administrator." ^
Passing to the second consideration, Hugo finds that the
sacraments were instituted with threefold purpose, for man's
humiliation, instruction, and discipline or exercise. The
man contemning them cannot be saved. Yet God has saved
many without them, as Jeremiah was sanctified in the womb,
and John the Baptist, and those who were righteous under
the natural law. " For those who under the natural law
possessed the substance {res) of the sacrament in right faith
and charity, did not to their damnation lack the sacrament."
And Hugo warns whoever might take a narrower view, to
beware lest in honouring God's sacraments. His power and
goodness be made of no avail. " Dost thou tell me that he
who has not the sacraments of God cannot be saved ? I tell
thee that he who has the virtue of the sacraments of God
cannot perish. Which is greater, the sacrament or the
virtue of the sacrament — water or faith ? If thou wouldst
speak truly, answer, ' faith.' " One notes that the twelfth
century had its broad-mindedness, as well as the twentieth.
While passing on discursively to consider the classifica-
tion of the sacraments, Hugo considers many matters,^ and
then opens his treatment of the sacraments of the natural
law with a recapitulation :
" The sacraments from the beginning were instituted for the
restoration and healing of man, some under the natural law,
^ Here we see clearly that the works of the Creation have the sacramental
quality of similitude and, in a way, the quality of institution, since their
similitude to spiritual things was intended by the Creator for the instruction of
man. They lack, however, the third quaUty of sanctification, which enables the
material signum to convey its spiritual res.
^ E.g. the material of the sacrament, which may consist in things, as in bread
and wine, or in actions (as in making the sign of the cross), or in words, as in
the invocation of the Trinity. He also shows how faith itself may be regarded
as a sacrament, inasmuch as it is that whereby we now see in a glass darkly and
behold but an image. But we shall hereafter see clearly through contemplation.
Faith then is the image, i.e. the sacrament, of the futiure contemplation which is
the sacrament's real verity, the res.
loo THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
some under the written law, and others under grace. Those
which are later in time will be found more worthy means of
spiritual grace. For all those sacraments of the former time,
under the natural or the written law, were signs and figures of those
now appointed under grace. The spiritual effect of the former
in their time was wrought through the virtue and sanctification
drawn from the latter. If any one therefore would deny that
those prior sacraments were effectual for sanctification, he does
not seem to me to judge aright." ^
The sacraments of the natural law were as the umbra
veritatis ; those of the written law as the imago vel figura
veritatis ; but those under grace are the corpus veritatis.^
The written law, though given fully only through Moses,
began with Abraham, upon whom circumcision was enjoined
as a sacrament and sign of separation from the heathen
peoples. In obedience to its precepts lies the merit, in its
promises lies the reward, while its sacraments aid men to
fulfil its precepts and obtain its reward. Hugo discusses the
sacraments of circumcision and burnt-offerings which were
necessary for the remission of sins ; then those which
exercised the faithful people in devotion — the peace-offering
is an example ; and again those which aided the people to
cultivate piety, as the tabernacle and its utensils.
Hugo's second Book, which makes the second half of his
work, is devoted to the " time of grace " inaugurated by the
Incarnation. It treats in detail the Christian sacraments
and other topics of the Faith, down to the Last Judgment,
when the wicked are cast into hell, and the blessed enter
upon eternal life, where God will be seen eternally, praised
without weariness, and loved without satiety. This blessed
lot flows from the grace of the salvation brought by Christ,
and is dependent on the sacraments, the enduring means of
grace. On their part, the sacraments, whatever more they
are, are symbols, in essence and function connected with the
1 De sacr. lib. i. pars xi. cap. i. The sacraments of the natural law
included tithes, oblations, and sacrifices. Hugo also considers the good works
which the natural law prescribed. This period ceases with the written law given
implicitly through Abraham and explicitly through Moses. See De sacr. lib. i.
pars xii. cap. i. Hugo appears to me to vary his point of view regarding the
natural law and its time, for sometimes he regards it as the law prevailing till the
time of Abraham or Moses, and again as the law under which pagan peoples
lived, who did not know the Mosaic law.
2 De sacr. lib. i. pars xi. cap. 6 (Migne 176, col. 346).
CHAP. XXIX THE SYMBOLIC UNIVERSE loi
symbolical nature of God's creation, with the prefigurative
significance of the fortunes of God's chosen people until the
coming of Christ, with the import and symbolism of Christ's
life and teachings, and with the symbolism inherent in
the organization and building up of Christ's holy Church.
Symbolism and allegory are made part of the constitution
of the world and man ; they connect man's body and
environment with his spirit, and link the life of this world
with the life to come. Hugo has thus grounded and
established symbolism in the purposes of God, in the
universal scheme of things, and in the nature and destinies
of man.^
1 Whoever should wish for further illustration of Hugo's allegorical methods
may examine his treatises entitled De area Noe morali and De area Noe mystica
(Migne 176, col. 618-702), where every detail of the Ark, which signifies the
Church, is allegorically applied to the Christian scheme of life and salvation.
With these treatises, Hugo's De vanitate mundi (Migne 176, col. 703-740) is con-
nected. They will be referred to when considering Hugo's position in mediaeval
philosophy, post, Chapter XXXVIL, 11.
CHAPTER XXX
CATHEDRAL AND MASS ; HYMN AND IMAGINATIVE POEM
I. GUILELMUS DURANDUS AND VINCENT OF BEAUVAIS.
II. The Hymns of Adam of St. Victor and the Anticlaudi-
ANUS OF ALANUS OF LiLLE.
Under sanction of Scriptural interpretation and the sacra-
ments, allegory and symbolism became accepted principles
of spiritual verity, sources of political argument, and modes
of transcendental truth. They penetrated the Liturgy,
charging every sentence and ceremonial act with saving
significance and power ; and as plastic influences they
imparted form and matter to religious art and poetry, where
they had indeed been potent from the beginning.
In the early Church the office of the Mass, the ordination
of priests, and the dedication of churches were not charged
with the elaborate symbolism carried by these ceremonies in
the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,^ when the Liturgy, or
speaking more specifically, the Mass, had become symbolical
from the introit to the last benediction ; and Gothic sculpture
and glass painting, which were the visible illustration of
the Mass, had been impressed with corresponding allegory.
Mediaeval liturgic lore is summed up by Guilelmus Durandus
in his Rationale divinorum officiorum, which was composed in
the latter part of the thirteenth century, and contains much
that is mirrored in the art of the French cathedrals. It is
1 See Duchesne, Origines du culte Chretien.
I02
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 103
impossible to review the elaborate symbolical significance of
the Mass as set forth in the authoritative work of one who
was a bishop, theologian, jurist, and papal regent.^ But a
little of it may be given.
The office of the Mass, says Durandus, is devised with
great forethought, so as to contain the major part of what
was accomplished by and in Christ from the time when He
descended from heaven to the time when He ascended into
heaven. In the sacrifice of the Mass all the sacrifices of the
Ancient Law are represented and superseded. It may be
celebrated at the third hour, because then, according to
Mark, Christ ascended the cross, and at that hour also the
Holy Spirit descended upon the Apostles in tongues of fire ;
or at the sixth hour, when, according to Matthew, Christ
was crucified ; or at the ninth hour, when on the cross He
gave up His spirit.
The first part of the Mass begins with the introit. Its
antiphonal chanting signifies the aspirations and deeds, the
prayers and praises of the patriarchs and prophets who were
looking for the coming of the Son of God. The chorus of
chanting clergy represents this yearning multitude of saints
of the Ancient Law. The bishop, clad in his sacred vest-
ments,^ at the end of the procession, emerging from the
sacristy and advancing to the altar, represents Christ,
the expected of the nations, emerging from the Virgin's
womb and entering the world, even as the Spouse from
His secret chamber. The seven lights borne before him
on the chief festivals are the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit
descending upon the head of Christ. The two acolytes
preceding him signify the Law and the Prophets, shown in
Moses and Elias who appeared with Christ on Mount Tabor.
The four who bear the canopy are the four evangelists,
declaring the Gospel. The bishop takes his seat and lays
aside his mitre. He is silent, as was Christ during His early
^ See the epitaph from his tomb in S. Maria sopra Minerva in Rome, given
by Savigny, Geschichte des Romischen Rechts, v. 571 sqq., who also gives a sketch
of his life. With the work of Durandus, the Gemma animae of Honorius of Autun
(Books I. II. III. ; Migne 172, col. 541 sqq.) should be compared, as marking a
somewhat earlier stage in the interpretation of the Liturgy. It also gives the
symbolism of the church and its parts, its ministers, and services.
* Every article worn or borne by the bishop (or celebrating priest) has
symbolic significance.
I04 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
years. The Book of the Gospels hes closed before him.
Around him in the company of clergy are represented the
Magi and others.
The services proceed, every word and act filled with
symbolic import. The reading of the Epistle is reached —
that is the preaching of John the Baptist, who preaches only
to the Jews ; so the reader turns to the north, the region of
the Ancient Law. The reading ended, he bows before the
bishop, as the Baptist humbled himself before Christ.
After the Epistle comes the Gradual or responsorium,
which relates to penitence and the works of the active life.
The Baptist is still the main figure, until the solemn moment
when the Gospel is read, which signifies the beginning of
Christ's preaching. The Creed follows the Gospel, as faith
follows the preaching of the truth. Its twelve parts refer to
the calling of the twelve apostles. Then the bishop begins
his sermon ; that is to say, after the calling of the Twelve,
the Word of God is preached to the people, and it henceforth
behoves the Church to hold fast to the Creed which has
just been recited.^
The authoritative allegorizing of the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries extended the symbolism of the Mass to the edifice
in which it was celebrated ; as the Rationale sets forth in its
opening chapter entitled " De ecclesia et eius partibus."
There it is shown that the corporeal church is the edifice,
while the Church, spiritually taken, signifies the faithful
people drawn together from all sorts of men as the edifice
is constructed of all sorts of stones. The various names
ecclesia, synagogue, basilica, and tabernacle are explained ;
and then why the Church is called the Body of Christ, and
also Virgin, also Spouse, Mother, Daughter, Widow, and
indeed Meretrix, as it shuts its bosom against no one seeking
it. The form of the church conforms to that of Solomon's
temple, in the anterior part of which the people heard and
prayed, while the clergy prayed and preached, gave thanks
and ministered, in the sanctuary or sacred place. Solomon's
temple in turn was modelled on the Tabernacle of the
^ All this (which is taken from Book IV. of the Rationale) is but the first
part of the Mass. The maze of symbolism increases in vastness and intricacy as
the ofiice proceeds.
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 105
Exodus, which, because it was constructed on a journey, is
the type of the world which passes away and the lust thereof.
It was made with the four colours of the arch of heaven, as
the world consists of the four elements. Since God is in the
world, He is in the tabernacle (which also means the Church
militant) and in the midst of the faithful congregation. The
anterior part of the tabernacle, where the people sacrificed, is
also the Vita activa, in which the laity labour in neighbourly
love ; and the portion where the Levites ministered is the
Vita contemplativa.
The church should be erected in the following manner :
the place of its foundation should be made ready — well-
founded is the house of the Lord upon a rock — and the
bishop or licensed priest should sprinkle it with holy water
to dispel the demons, and should lay the first stone, on which
should be carved a cross. The head of the church, that is
the chancel, should be set toward the rising sun at the time
of the equinox. Now if the Jews were commanded to build
walls for Jerusalem, how much more ought we to build the
walls of our churches ? The material church signifies the
Holy Church built of living stones in heaven, with Christ the
corner-stone, upon which are set the foundations of Apostles
and Prophets. The walls above are the Jews and Gentiles,
who believing come to Christ from the four quarters of the
world. The faithful people predestined to life are the stones
thereof.
The mortar in which the stones are set is made of lime,
sand, and water. Lime is fervent love, which takes to itself
the sand, that is, earthly toil ; then water, which is the Spirit,
unites the lime and sand. As the stones of the wall would
have no stability without the mortar, so men cannot be set
in the walls of the heavenly Jerusalem without love, which
the Holy Spirit brings. The stones of the wall are hewn
and squared, which means sanctified and made clean. Some
stones are borne, but do not themselves bear any burden,
and these are the feeble in the Church. Other stones are
borne, yet also bear ; while still others bear, but are not
borne, save by Christ alone, the one foundation ; and the
last are the perfect.
The Jews were subject to hostile attack while building
io6 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
the walls of Jerusalem,^ so that with one hand they set
stones, while they fought with the other. Likewise are we
surrounded by hostile vices as we build the walls of the
Church ; but we oppose them with the shield of faith and
the breastplate of righteousness, and the sword of the Word
of God in our hands.
The church edifice is disposed like the human body.
The chancel, where the altar is, represents the head, and the
cross (transept) the arms and hands. The western portion
(nave and aisles) is the rest of the body. But indeed
Richard of St. Victor deems that the three parts of the
edifice represent in order of sanctity, first the virgins, then
the continent, and lastly married people.
Again, the Church is built with four walls ; that is, by
the teaching of the four evangelists it rises broad and high
into the altitude of the virtues. Its length is the long-
suffering with which it endures adversity ; its breadth is
love, with which it embraces its friends in God, and loves its
enemies for His sake ; its height is the hope of future reward.
Again, in God's temple the foundation is faith, which is as
to what is not seen ; the roof is charity, which covers a
multitude of sins. The door is obedience — keep the com-
mandments if thou wilt enter into life.^ The pavement is
humility. The four walls are the four virtues, righteousness,
{justitia) , fortitude, prudence, and temperance. The windows
are glad hospitality and free-handed pity.
Some churches are cruciform, to teach us that we are
crucified to the world, or should follow the Crucified. Some
are circular, which signifies that the Church is spread through
the circle of the world.
The apse signifies the faithful laity ; the crypts, the
hermits. The nave signifies Christ, through whom lies the
way to the heavenly Jerusalem ; the towers are the preachers
and prelates, and the pinnacles represent the prelates' minds
which soar on high. Also a weather-cock on top of the
church signifies the preachers, who rouse the sleeping from
the night of sin, and turning ever to the wind, resist the
rebellious. The iron rod upholding the cock is the preacher's
sermon ; and because this rod is placed above the cross on
1 Neh. iv. ^ Matt. xix. 17.
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 107
the church, it indicates the word of God finished and con-
firmed, as Christ said in His passion, " It is finished." The
lofty dome on which the cross is set, signifies how perfect
and inviolate should be the preaching and observance of the
Catholic Faith.
The glass windows of the church are the divine
Scriptures, which repel the wind and rain, but admit the
light of the true sun, to wit God, into the church, that is,
into the hearts of the faithful. The windows also signify
the five senses of the body.^
The door of the church (again) is Christ — " I am the
Door " ; the doors are also the Apostles. The pillars are the
bishops and doctors ; their bases are the apostolic bishops ;
their capitals are the minds of the doctors and bishops.
The pavement is the foundation of faith, and also signifies
the " poor in spirit," also the common crowd by whose
labours the church is upheld. The rafters are the princes
and preachers in the world, who defend the church by deed
and word. The seats in a church are the contemplative in
whom God rests without offence. The panels in the ceiling
are also preachers who adorn and strengthen.
The chancel, the head of the church, by being lower
than the rest, indicates how great should be the humility of
the clergy. The screens by which the altar is separated
from the choir signify the separation of heavenly beings
from things of earth. The choir stalls indicate the body's
need of recreation. The pulpit is the life of the perfect.
The horologe signifies the diligence with which the priests
should say the canonical hours. The tiles of the roof are
the knights who protect the church from pagans. The
spiral stairways concealed within the walls are the secret
knowledge had only by those who ascend to the heavenly
places. The sacristy, where the holy utensils are kept and
the priest puts on his vestments, signifies the womb of the
most holy Virgin, in which Christ put on His sacred garb of
flesh. From thence the priest emerges before the public,
as Christ went forth from the Virgin's womb into the world.
The lamp signifies Christ, who is the light of the world ;
1 Many parts of the church have more than one significance. The windows
were said before to represent hospitality and pity.
io8 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
or the lamps signify the Apostles and other doctors, whose
doctrine lights the church. Moses also made seven lights,
which are the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.
Durandus next devotes a whole chapter to the symbolism
of the altar, and another to the significance and function of
ornaments, pictures, and sculpture. The latter opens with
the words : " The pictures and ornaments in a church are
the texts and scriptures {lectiones et scripturae) of the laity."
This chapter is long ; if explains how Christ and the angels,
also saints. Apostles and others, should be represented, and
describes the proper kinds of church ornament and utensils.
Much of the detail is symbolical.
Thus Durandus devised or brought together meanings
to fit each bit of the church edifice, its materials and furnish-
ings. In the work of a contemporary are stored the alle-
gorical meanings of the subjects of Gothic sculpture and
painted glass. The thirteenth century had a weakness for
the word " Speculum," and the idea it carried of a mirror
or compendium of all human knowledge. The chief of
mediaeval encyclopaedists was Vincent of Beauvais, a
protege of the saintly King Louis IX. An analysis of his
huge Speculum majus is given elsewhere.^ It was made up
of the Mirror of Nature, the Mirror of human Knowledge and
Ethics, and the Mirror of History. The compiler and his
assistants laboured during the best period of Gothic art,
and from their work, industry may draw an exhaustive
commentary upon the series of topics presented by the
sculpture and glass of a cathedral.^
The Mirror of Nature appears carved in the sculpture
of Chartres or Bourges. In rendering the work of the Six
Days, the Creator is shown (under the form of Christ) ^ con-
1 Post, Chapter XXXVI., i.
2 The application of Vincent's work to the sculpture and painting of a Gothic
cathedral is due to Didron, Iconographie chretienne, histoire de Dieu, Introduction
(1843). Other writers have followed him, like jfemile Male in his UArt religieux
du XIII^ Steele en France (2nd ed., Paris, 1902), to which the present writer is
much indebted. It goes without saying, that the soiurces from which Vincent
drew (e.g. the works of Albertus Magnus) likewise form a commentary upon the
subjects of Gothic glass and sculpture, and may even have suggested the manner
of their presentation.
^ The opening verses of St. John's Gospel account for this. Christ, or God in
the person of Christ, is shown in Old Testament scenes as early as the fourth
century upon sarcophagi in the Lateran at Rome.
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 109
templating His work, or resting from His toil ; here and
there a Hon, sheep, or goat, suggests the animal creation,
and a few trees the vegetable world. This is the necessary
symbolism of the sculptor's art. But Gothic animals and
plants sometimes have other definite symbolic meanings,
as in the instance of the well-known signs of the four
Evangelists, the man, the lion, the ox, the eagle. The
allegorical interpretations of Scripture were an exhaustless
source of symbolism for Gothic sculptors ; another was the
Physiologus and its progeny of Bestiaries, with their symbolic
explanations of the legendary attributes of animals. In-
tentional symbolism, however, did not inhere in all this
carving, much of which is sheer fancy and decoration. Such
was the character of the splendid Gothic flora, of the birds
and beasts that move in it, and of the grotesque monsters.
They were not out of place, since the Gothic cathedral was
itself a Speculum or Summa, and should include the whole
of God's creation, not omitting even the devils who beset
men's souls.
Vincent may have drawn from Hugo of St. Victor the
current doctrine that the arts have part in the work of man's
restoration ; a doctrine abundantly justifying the presence of
the sciences and crafts (composing the Mirror of Knowledge)
in the sculpture and painting of the cathedral. There the
Seven Liberal Arts are rendered, through allegorical figures ;
and the months of the year are symbolized in the Zodiac
and the labours of the field which make up man's annual
toil. Philosophy is shown and Fortune's wheel ; the Virtues
and Vices are represented in personifications, and even their
conflict, the Psychomachia, may be shown.
At last the Mirror of History is reached. This will
teach in concrete examples what has been learned from the
figures of the abstract Virtues and Vices. Its chief source
is the Bible. Those Old Testament incidents were selected
which for centuries had been interpreted as prefigurements
of the life of Christ ; and each was presented as a pendant
to the Gospel scene which it typified. These make the
chief subjects of the coloured glass of Chartres and Bourges
and other cathedrals where the windows are preserved.
Here may be seen the Passion of Christ, surrounded by
no THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
scenes from the Old Testament typifying it ; likewise His
Resurrection and its ancient types ; and other significant
incidents in the life of the Saviour and His virgin mother.^
The latter is typified by the burning bush, by the fleece of
Gideon, by the rod of Aaron, even as in the hymns of Adam
qi Saint- Victor.^ Besides these incidents, leading personages
of the old Testament are presented as prefigurative of
Christ, as in the great series of statues of Melchizedek,
Abraham, Moses, Samuel, David, on the north portal of
Chartres ; while the four greater and twelve minor prophets
are shown as types of the four Evangelists and the twelve
Apostles. Christ himself is depicted on a window at St.
Denis, between the allegorical figures of the Ancient Law
and the Gospel, — figures which are allied to those of the
uncrowned and blinded Synagogue and the triumphant
Church, so frequently seen together upon cathedrals. Every-
where the tendency to symbolize is strong. Parts of the
Crucifixion scene are rendered symbolically, and many of the
parables. That of the Good Samaritan constantly appears
upon the windows, and is always designed so as to convey
the allegorical teaching drawn from it in Honorius's sermon.^
Obviously this Mirror of History was chiefly sacred
history. Pagan antiquity was scantily suggested by the
Sibyls, who stand for the dumb pagan prophecy of Christ.
Scenes from the history of Christian nations were more
frequent ; but they always told of some victory for Christ,
like the baptism of Clovis, or the crusading deeds of Charle-
magne, Roland, or Godfrey of Bouillon. God's drama closed
with the Last Judgment, the damnation of the damned and
the beatitude of the elect. The Last Judgments, usually
over- arching the tympanums above cathedral doors, are
known to all — as at Rheims, at Chartres, at Bourges. They
are full of symbolism, and full of " historic " reality as well.
The treatment becomes entirely allegorical when the sculptor
enters Paradise with the redeemed, and portrays in lovely
personifications the beatitudes of the blessed, as on the north
portal of Chartres.
^ These subjects illustrated the series of events celebrated in the calendar of
church services.
* Post, pp. 112 sqq. ^ Ante, Chapter XXVIII.
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN iii
Those bands of nameless men who carved the statues
and designed the coloured glass which were to make Gothic
cathedrals speak, faithfully presented the teachings of the
Church, They rendered the sacred drama of mankind's
creation, fall, redemption, and final judgment unto hell or
heaven : they rendered it in all its dogmatic symbolism,
and with a plastic adequacy showing how completely they
thought and felt in the allegorical medium in which they
worked. They also created matchless ideals of symbolism
in art. The statuary of the portals and fagades of Rheims
and Chartres are in their way comparable to the sculptures
of the pediment of the Parthenon. But unlike those master-
pieces of antique idealism, these Christian masterpieces do
not seek to set forth mortal man in his natural strength
and beauty and completeness. Rather they seek to show
the working of the human spirit held within the power and
grace of God. Theirs is not the strength and beauty of the
flesh, or the excellence of the unconquerable mind of man ;
but in them man's mind and spirit are palpably the devout
creatures of God's omnipotence, obedient to His will,
sustained and redeemed by His power and grace. Attitude,
form, feature, alike designed to express the sacred beauty of
the soul, are not invested with physical excellence for its
own sake ; but every physical quality of these statues is a
symbol of some holy and beautiful quality of spirit. These
statues attain a symbolic, and not a natural, ideal in art.
Yet many of them possess the physical beauty of form and
feature, inasmuch as such may be the proper envelope for
the chaste and eager soul.^
On the other hand, in the filling out of the illustrative
detail of life on earth, of handicraft and art, the sculptor
showed how he could carve these actualities, and present
earth's beauty in the cathedral's wealth of vine and flower
and leaf. The level commonplace of humanity is deitly
rendered, the daily doings of the forge and field and market-
place, the tugging labourer, the merchant with his stuffs, the
^ So the composition and the arrangement of topics in the cathedral sculpture
and glass have scarcely the excellence of natural grouping. The arrangement is
intended to illustrate the series of successive acts making up God's own artist-
composition, itself symbolical of His purpose in the creation and redemption of
man.
112 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
scholar with his scrolls. He knew life well, this artist, and
had an eye for every catching scene, also for Nature's subtle
beauties. Sometimes a certain passing show was represented
because a window was given by some drapers' guild, desirous
of seeing its craft shown in a place of honour ; and the
artist loved his scenes from busy life, as he loved his
ornament from Nature. Such scenes (which rarely held
specific allegory) were not unconnected with the rest of the
drama of creation and redemption mirrored in the cathedral,
nor was the exquisitely cut leaf and rose without its sugges-
tion of the grace incarnate in the Virgin and her Son. Daily
life and natural ornament had at least an illustrative
pertinency to the whole, of which they were unobtrusive and
lovely elements ; and since that whole was primarily a
visible symbol of the unseen and divine power, these humble
elements had part in its unutterable mystery, and were
likewise symbols.
Finally, have not these nameless artists — even as Dante
and our English Bunyan — presented by their art a synthesis
of life's realities ? Their feet were on the earth ; with
sympathy and knowledge their hands worked in the media
of things seen and handled, and fashioned the little human
matters which are bounded by the cradle and the grave.
Such were the materials from which Dante formed his
Commedia, and Bunyan drew the Progress of his Pilgrim
soul to God. Yet as with Bunyan and Dante, so with
these artists in stone and coloured light, the mortal and
the tangible were but the elements through which the poem
or story, or the carved or painted picture, was made the
realizing symbol of the unseen and eternal Spirit.
II
Beneath the Abbey Church of Saint-Victor there was a
crypt consecrated to the Mother of God. Here a certain
monk was wont to retire and compose hymns in her honour.
One day his lips uttered the lines :
" Salve, mater pietatis,
Et totius Trinitatis
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 113
Nobile triclinium ;
Verbi tamen incarnati
Speciale majestati
Praeparans hospitium ! "
Whereupon a flood of light filled the crypt, and the Virgin,
appearing to him, inclined her head.
The monk's name was Adam.^ and he is deemed the best
of Latin hymn-writers. Breton bom, he entered Saint-Victor
in his youth, about the year 1130. He was favoured with
the instruction of Hugo till the master's death in 1141.
Adam must have been of nearly the same age as Richard of
Saint-Victor, that other pupil of Hugo who makes the third
member of the great Victorine trio. Their works have been
the monastery's fairest fame. Hugo was a Saxon ; Adam
a Breton ; Richard was Scotch. So Saint-Victor drew her
brilliant sons from many lands. Richard, whose writings
worthily supplemented those of his master Hugo,^ died in
1173 ; his friend Adam outlived him, and died an old man
as the twelfth century was closing. He was buried in the
cloister, and over him was placed an elegiac epitaph upon
human vanity and sin, in part his own composition.
Adam's hymns were Sequences ^ intended for church use.
Their author was learned in Christian doctrine, skilled in the
Liturgy, and saturated with the spirit of devotional symbolism.
His symbolism, which his gift of verse made into imagery,
was that of the mediaeval church and its understanding of
the Liturgy ; he also shows the special influence of Hugo.
Adam's hymns, with their powerful Latin rhymes, cannot
be reproduced in English ; but a translation may give the
contents of their symbolism. The hymn for Easter, beginning
" Zyma vetus expurgetur," * is an epitome of the symbolic
prefiguration of Christ in the Old Testament. Each familiar
allegorical interpretation flashes in a phrase. Literally
translated, or rather maltreated, it is as follows :
^ Adam's hymns are edited with notes and an introductory essay by L. Gautier,
(Euvres poetiques d'Adam de S.-Victor (3rd ed., Paris, 1894). A number of his
hymns will be found in Migne 196, col. 1422 sqq. ; and also in Clement's Carmina
e poetis christianis excerpta. On Adam's verse see post, Chapter XXXIII., iii.
* Dante draws much from Richard of St. Victor.
* See post, Chapter XXXIII., in.
* Gautier, o.c. p. 46 (Migne 196, col. 1437).
VOL. II I
114 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
" Let the old leaven be purged away that a new resurrection
may be celebrated purely. This is the day of our hope ; wonder-
ful is the power of this day by the testimony of the law.
" This day despoiled Egypt, and liberated the Hebrews from
the iron furnace ; for them in wretched straits the work of servi-
tude was mud and brick and straw. ^
" Now as praise of divine virtue, of triumph, of salvation, let
the voice break free ! This is the day which the Lord made, the
day ending our grief, the day bringing salvation.
" The Law is the shadow of things to come, Christ the goal of
promises, who completes all. Christ's blood blunts the sword,
the watch removed.^
" The Boy, type of our laughter, in whose stead the ram was
slain, signifies life's joys.^ Joseph issues from the pit ; * Christ
returns above after death's punishment.
" This serpent devours the serpents of Pharaoh secure from
the serpent's spite.^ Whom the fiery one wounded, them the
brazen serpent's presence frees.^
" Christ, the hook and ring, pierces the dragon's jaw ; ' the
weaned child puts his hand into the cockatrice's den, and the old
tenant of the world flees affrighted.^
" The mockers of Elisha while he ascends the house of God,
feel the bald-head's wrath ; ® David, feigning madness, the goat
cast forth, and the sparrow escape.^"
" With a jaw-bone Samson slays a thousand and spurns the
marriage of his tribe. Samson bursts the bars of Gaza, and,
carrying its gates, scales the mountain's crest. ^^
^ The Hebrews in bondage to the Egyptians are the symbol of all men in the
bonds of sin.
^ As Christ expires the cherubim at the gate of Eden lower the flaming sword,
so that the men bathed with His blood may pass in.
^ Isaac was always a type of Christ ; his name was interpreted laughter {tisus)
from Gen. xxi. 6 : " And Sarah said, God hath made me to laugh, so that all
that hear will laugh with me."
* Joseph another type of Christ.
^ This serpent, i.e. Christ the rod of Aaron, safe from the devil's spite, consumes
the false idols.
® The Brazen Serpent, a type of Christ. Cf. John iii. 14.
' Cf. Job xli. I. The hook (hanius) is Christ's divinity, whereby He pierces
the devU's jaw.
* Cf. Isa. xi. 8. The guiltless child is Christ, and the cockatrice is the devil.
® The children who mocked Elisha represent the Jews mocking Christ as He
ascended Calvary ; the bear is Vespasian and Titus who destroy Jerusalem.
1" These again are types of Christ : David feigning madness among the Phihs-
tines, I Sam. xxi. 12-15 ; the goat cast forth for the people's sins, Lev. xvi. 21, 22 ;
and the sparrow in the rite of cleansing from leprosy, Lev. xiv. 2-7.
^^ Samson a type of Christ, will not wed a woman of his tribe (Judges xiv.
1-3) as Christ chooses the Gentiles ; Samson bursts open Gaza's gates as Christ
the gates of death and hell.
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 115
" So the strong Lion of Judah, shattering the gates of dreadful
death, rises the third day ; at His Father's roaring voice, He
carried aloft so many spoils to the bosom of the supernal mother. ^
" After three days the whale gives back from his belly's
narrow house Jonas the fugitive, type of the true Jonas. The
grape of Cyprus ^ blooms again, opens and grows apace. The
synagogue's flower withers, while flourishes the Church.^
" Death and life fought together : truly Christ arose, and with
Him many witnesses of glory. Let a new morn, a glad morn,
wipe away the tears of evening : hfe has overcome destruction ;
it is a time of joy.
" Jesu victor, Jesu hfe, Jesu life's beaten way, thou whose
death queUed death, bid us to the paschal board in trust. Live,
O Bread, living Wave, O true and fruitful Vine, do thou feed
us, do thou cleanse us, that thy grace may save us from the
second death. Amen."
From the time of that old third-century hymn ascribed
to Clement of Alexandria,* hymns to Christ had been filled
with symbolism, the " symbolism of loving personification
of His attributes, as well as with the more formal symbolism
of His Old Testament prefigurements. Adam's symbolism
is of both kinds. It has feeling even when dogmatic,^ and
throbs with devotion as its theme approaches the Gospel
Christ. Prevailing modes of thought and feeling may
prescribe topics for verse which a succeeding age will find
curiously unpoetic. Yet if the later time have a sympathetic
understanding for the past, it will recognize how fervid and
how songful was that bygone verse — the verse of Adam's
hymns, for instance. In one for Christmas Day, beginning :
" Po testate, non natura.
Fit Creator creatura," ^
^ The allusion here is to the statement of mediaeval Bestiaries that the lion
cub, when born, lies lifeless for thfee days, till awakened by his father's roar.
The supernal mother is the Chiurch triumphant.
^ The body of Christ, i.e. the Church.
' A topic everywhere represented in church windows and cathedral sculpture.
* Printed at the end of his Paedagogus ; see Taylor, Classical Heritage of the
Middle Ages, pp. 253-255, where it is translated.
^ Although the dogmas of Christianity were formulated by reason, they were
cradled in love and hate. Nowadays, in a time when dogmas are apt to be thought
useless clogs to the spirit, it is well for the historically-minded to remember the
power of emotional devotion which they have inspired in other times.
* Gautier, CEuvres d'Adam (ist ed., vol. i. p. 11) ; Gautier (3rd ed., p. 269)
doubts whether this hymn is Adam's. But for the purpose of illustrating the
symbolism of the twelfth-century hymn, the question of authorship is not
important.
li6 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
a stanza touches on the reason why the Creator thus became
creature. It would be impossible to render its feeling in
Enghsh, and much circumlocution would be needed to
express' even its hteral meaning in any language but
mediaeval Latin. This stanza has twelve lines :
" Causam quaeris, modum rei :
" Causa prius omnes rei.
Modus justum velle Dei,
Sed conditum gratia."
" Thou askest causa and modus of the fact : the causa was
that first all were guilty, the modus was God's righteous wiUing,
but seasoned with grace."
These hues are scholastic. In the next four, the feeling
begins to rise, yet the phrases repel rather than attract us :
" O quam dulce condimentum
Nobis mutans in pigmentum,
Cum aceto fel cruentum
Degustante Messy a ! "
" Oh ! how sweet the condiment changing for us into juice,
as the Messiah tastes the bloody gall and vinegar."
The feeling touches its climax with the four concluding
lines— in which the parable of the Good Samaritan is in-
vested with the special allegorical significance set forth in
the sermon of Honorius : ^
" O salubre sacramentum,
Quod nos ponit in jumentum
Plagis nostris dans unguentum
lUe de Samaria."
" O health-giving sacrament which sets us on a beast, giving
ointment for our stripes,— he of Samaria." ^
Two stanzas from another of Adam's Christmas hymns
1 Ante, Chapter XXVIII. . ,,
2 In these closing lines the " salubre sacramentum is m apposition to llle
de Samaria "—i.e. the " sacramentum " is the Saviour, who is also typified by
the Good Samaritan. In another hymn for Christmas, Adam speaks of the
concurrence in one persona of Word, flesh, and spirit, and then uses the phrase
" Tantae rei sacramentum " (Gautier, o.c. p. 5) • Here the sacramentum designates
the visible human person of Christ, which was the life-giving signum or symbol
of so great a marvel (tantae rei) as the Incarnation. Adam has Hugo's teachmg
in mind, and the full significance of his phrase will appear by takmg it m con-
nection with Hugo's definition of the Sacrament, ante, p. 98.
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 117
will show how curiously intricate could be his symbolism.
Having spoken of the ineffable wonder of the Incarnation,
he proceeds :
" Frondem, florem, nucem sicca
Virga profert, et pudica
Virgo Dei Filium.
Fert coelestem vellus rorem,
Creatura creatorem,
Creaturae pretium.
" Frondis, floris, nucis, roris
Pietati Salvatoris
Congruunt mysteria.
Frons est Christus protegendo,
Flos dulcore, nux pascendo,
Ros coelesti gratia." ^
" A dry rod puts forth leafage, flower, nut,^ and a chaste
Virgin brings forth the Son of God. A fleece bears heavenly
dew,^ a creature the Creator, the creature's price.
" The mysteries of leafage, flower, nut, dew are suited to the
Saviour's tender love (pietas) . Christ by His protecting is foliage,
by His sweetness is a flower, is a nut by His yielding food, and
dew by His celestial grace."
One observes that here the symbolism first touches
Christ's birth, the dry rod and the fleece representing the
Virgin. Then the leafage, flower, nut and dew typify His
qualities. The remaining stanzas of this hymn carry out in
further detail the symbolism of the nut.
Besides the hymns devoted to the Saviour, the greater
part of Adam's hymns are symbolical throughout. Those
written for the dedication of churches are among the
most interesting. One beginning " Quam dilecta taber-
nacula " * sketches the Old Testament facts which prefigure
Christ's holy Church. The keynote is in the lines :
" Quam decora fundamenta
Per concinna sacramenta
Umbra praecurrentia ! "
^ Gautier, o.c. p. lo.
^ The reference is to Aaron's rod in Numbers xvii.
' The reference is to Gideon's fleece, Judges vi. 37, which is a type of the
Virgin Mary.
* Gautier, o.c. ist ed., i. 155 (Migne 196, col. 1464). In his third edition,
Gautier is doubtful of Adam's authorship of this hymn because of its irregular
rhyme.
ii8 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
" How seemly the foundations through the appropriate sacra-
ments, forerunning by the shadow."
The shadow is the Old Testament, and these three lines sum
up the teaching of Hugo as to the sacramental nature of
the Old Testament narratives. Throughout this hymn
Adam follows Hugo closely.^ In another dedicatory hymn ^
Adam gives the prefigurative meaning of the parts of
Solomon's temple. There is likewise much symbolism
in the grand hymns addressed to the Virgin, One for the
festival of the Assumption ^ gives the figures of the Virgin
in the Old Testament — ^the throne of Solomon, the fleece
of Gideon, the burning bush. Then with more feeling the
metaphorical epithets pour forth, voicing the heart's gratitude
for the Virgin's saving aid to man. A still more splendid
example of like symbolism and ardent metaphor is the great
hymn beginning :
" Salve mater Salvatoris,
Vas electum, vas honoris,"
which won the Virgin's greeting for the poet.*
The lives of Honorius, of Hugo, of Adam, from whose
works we have been drawing illustrations of mediaeval
symbolism, vie with each other in obscurity ; and properly
enough since they were monks, for whom self-effacement is
becoming. This personal obscurity culminates with one last
example to be drawn from monastic sources. The man him-
self was an impressive figure in his time ; a sight of him was
not to be forgotten : he was called magnus and doctor
universalis. Nevertheless it has been questioned whether he
lived in the twelfth or the thirteenth century, and whether
one man or two bore the name of Alanus de Insulis.
There was in fact but one, and he belongs to the twelfth
century, dying almost a centenarian, in the year 1202. The
cognomen de Insulis has also been an enigma. From it he
has been dubbed a Sicilian, and then a Scot, born on the
island of Mona. But the name in reality refers to the chief
town of Flariders, which is called Lisle ; and Alanus doubt-
less was a Fleming.
^ Cf. Gautier's notes to this hymn, Gautier, o.c. ist ed., i. 159-167.
^ Gautier, o.c. i. 168. ^ Gautier, o.c. ii. 127.
* Gautier, 3rd ed., p. 186. This is in Migne 196, col. 1502.
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 119
He became a learned man, and lectured at Paris. That
he was possessed with no small opinion of his talents would
appear from the legend told of him as well as of St.
Augustine. He had announced that on a certain day in
a single lecture he would set forth the complete doctrine of
the mystery of the most Holy Trinity. The afternoon before
the day appointed, he walked by the river, thinking how he
should arrange his subject so as to include it all. He
chanced upon a child who was dipping up the river water
with a snail shell and dropping it into a little trench.
Smiling, he asked what should be the object of this ; and
the child told him that he was putting the whole river into
his trench. As the great scholar was explaining that this
could not be done, he suddenly felt himself chidden and
taught — how much less might he perform what he had set
for the next morning. He stood speechless at his pre-
sumption, and burst into tears. The next day ascending
the platform he said to the crowd of auditors, " Let it suffice
you to have seen Alanus " ; ^ and with that he left them all
astonished, and himself hastily set out for Citeaux. On
arrival he asked to be admitted as a conversus, and was
given charge of the monastery's sheep. Patient and
unknown, he long plied this humble vocation. But at
length it chanced that the abbot took him to a council at
Rome, in the capacity of hostler. And there he beat down
the arrogance of a heretic with such arguments that the
latter cried out that he was disputing either with the devil
or Alanus, and would say no more.
Such is one story. By another he is made to seek the
monastery of Clairvaux, and there become a monk under
St. Bernard. It is also written that he became an abbot,
and then a bishop, but afterwards resigned his bishopric.
However all this may have been, he died and was buried,
and was subjected to many epitaphs. On what purports
to be an old copy of his tomb at Citeaux, he is shown with
St. Bernard, and called Alanus Magnus. The title Doctor
universalis has always clung to his memory, which will not
altogether fade. For if Adam of Saint- Victor was the
^ A charlatan in Salimbene's Chronicle, ante, Chapter XXII., uses a like
phrase.
I20 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
greatest of Latin mediaeval hymn-writers, Alanus has good
claim to be called the greatest of mediaeval Latin poets in
the field of didactic and narrative poetry.^
The many works ascribed to Alanus include an allegorical
Commentary on Canticles, a treatise on the art of preaching,
a book of sententiae, another of theologicae regulae, sundry
sermons, and a lengthy work " contra haereticos " ; also a
large dictionary of Biblical allegorical interpretations, entitled
Liber in distinctionibus didionum theologicalium} All these
are prose. He composed, besides, his Liber de plandu naturae ^
and his Antidaudianus , a learned and profound, and likewise
highly imaginative allegorical poem upon man.* Its Preface
in prose casts a curious light upon the author's enigmatical
personality, which combined the wonted or conventional
humility of a monk with the towering self-consciousness of
a man of genius.
" The lightning scorns to spend its force on twigs, but breaks
the proud tops of exalted trees. The wind's imperious rage
passes over the reed and drives the assaults of its wild blasts
against the highest summits. Wherefore let not envy's flame
strike the pinched humility of my work, nor detraction's breath
overwhelm the driven poverty of my little book, where misery's
wreck demands a port of pity, far more than felicity provokes
the sting of spite."
More sentences of turgid deprecation follow, and the
author begs the reader not to approach his book with disgust
and irritation, but with pleasant anticipations of novelty (not
all a monk speaks here !).
" For although the book may not bloom with the purple
vestment of flowering speech, nor shine with the consteUated
light of the flashing period, still in the tenuity of the fragile reed
1 For the data as to Alanus see the Prolegomena to Migne, Pat. Lat. 210,
which volume contains his works. See also Haureau, Mem. de Vacad. des in-
scriptions et des belles lettres, tome 32 (1886), p. i, etc. ; also Hist. lit. de France,
tome 16, p. 396, etc. On Alanus and his place in scholastic philosophy, see post,
Chapter XXXVII., iii.
* Migne 210, col. 686-1012.
^ Migne 210, col. 431-481. See post, Chapter XXXIII., i.
* The significance of the title is not quite clear. The poem is written in
hexametre, and is not far from 4700 lines in length. It is printed in Migne 210,
col. 486-576 ; also edited by Thos. Wright, Master of the Rolls Series, vol. 59,
ii. {1872).
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 121
the honey's sweetness may be found, and parched thirst can be
tempered with the scant water of a rill. In this book let nothing
be made vulgar (plebescat) with ribaldry, nor let anything be
open to biting reproof, as if it smacked of the coarseness of the
moderns [to whom does he refer ?] ; but let the flower of my
talent be presented, and the dignity of diligence ; for pigmy
humility, thus raised upon a height, may overtop the giant.
Let not those dare to tire of this work, who are squalling in the
cradles of elementary instruction, sucking milk from nurses'
paps ; nor let those seek to cry it down, who are pledged to the
service of the higher learning ; nor those presume to discredit it,
who strike heaven with the exalted head of philosophy. For in
this work, the sweetness of the literal meaning will tickle the
puerile ear ; moral teaching wiU imbue the more proficient
understanding ; and the finer subtilty of allegory will sharpen
the finished intellect. Wherefore let all those be kept from
ingress who, abandoned to the mirrors of the senses, are -not
charioteered by reason, and, pursuing the sense-image, have no
appetite for reason's truth, — lest indeed what is holy be defiled
by dogs, and the pearl be trampled by the feet of swine. . . .
But such as will not suffer the matter of their reason to rest
among base images, and dare to lift their view to forms divine,
may thread the narrow passes of my book, while they weigh with
discretion's scales what is suited to the common ear, and what
should be buried in silence."
This Preface of strained sentence and laboured metaphor,
of forced humility and overweening self-consciousness, hardly
augurs well for the poem of which it is the prelude. But
prefaces are authors' pitfalls, and, moreover, many writers
have floundered in one medium of speech while in another
they have moved with ease. From the ungainly prose of
the Persones Tale, no one would expect the ease and force
of Chaucer's verse. And the reader of Alanus's Preface
need not be discouraged from entering upon his poem. Its
subject is man ; its philosophic or religious purpose is to
expound the functions of God, of Nature, of Fortune, of
Virtue and Vice, in making man and shaping his career.
The poem is an allegory, original in its general scheme of
composition, but in many of its parts following earlier
allegorical writings.
The opening lines tell of Nature's solicitude to bestow
her gifts so that the finished work may present a fair
122 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
harmony : as a patient workman she forges, trims and files,
and fashions with reason's chisel. But when she seeks to
invest her work with qualities beyond her giving, she is
obliged to call on the Celestial Council of her Sisters.
Responding, pilgrim-like the Crown of Heaven's soldiery
comes from on high, brightens the earth with its light, and
clothes the ground with blessed footprints.
Leading this galaxy. Concord advances, foster-child of
Peace ; then Plenty comes, and Favour, and Youth with
favour anointed, and Laughter, banisher of mental mists ;
then Shame and Modesty, and Reason the measure of good,
and Honesty, Reason's happy comrade ; then Dignity {decus)
and Prudence balancing her scales, and Piety and true Faith,
and Virtue. Last of all Nobility [nohilitas), in grace not
quite the others' equal. ^
In the midst of a great wood blessed with fountains and
multitudinous bird-song, a cloud-kissing mountain rose with
level top. Nature's palace was erected here, gemmed and
golden ; and within was a great hall hung upon bronze
columns. Here the painter's art had rendered the ways of
men, and inscriptions made plain the pictured story. " O
new wonders of painting," exclaims the poet ; " what cannot
be, comes into being ; and painting, the ape of truth, deluding
with novel art, turns shadows to realities, and transforms
particular falsehood into [general] truth." ^ There might be
seen the power of logic pressing its arguments and conquering
sophistry. There Aristotle was preparing his arms, and,
more divinely, Plato mused on heaven's secrets. There
Seneca moralized, and Ptolemy explained the stars in their
times and courses. There spoke the word of TuUy, while
Virgil's muse painted many lies, and put truth's garb on
falsehood. There was also shown the might of Alcides and
Ulysses' wisdom, Tumus's valour prodigal of life, and Hippo-
^ The poem is highly imaginative in the delineation of its allegorical figures.
^ These curious lines are as follows :
" O nova picturae miracula, transit ad esse
Quod nihil esse potest ! picturaque simia veri.
Arte nova ludens, in res umbracula rerum
Vertit, et in verum mendacia singula mutat."
Anticlaudianus, i. cap. iv.
(Migne 196, col. 491.)
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 123
lytus's shame, undone by Venus's reins. ^ Such and many
other tropes of things and dreams of truth, this royal art set
forth.
Here, standing in the midst of her Council, Nature, with
bowed head, spoke her solemn words : " Painfully I remake
what my hand's solicitude has wrought. But the hand's
penitence does not wipe out the flaws. The shortcomings
of our works must be repaired by some perfect model, some
man divine, not smelling of the earth and earthly, but whose
mind shall hold to heaven while his body walks the earth.
Let him be the mirror in which we may see what our faith,
our potency, and virtue ought to be. As it is, our shame is
over all the earth."
When the Council had approved these words, Prudence
arose in all her beauty. ^ She discoursed upon man's dual
nature, spirit and body. Nature and her helpers may be
the artificers of his mortal body, but the soul demands its
heavenly Artificer, and laughs at our rude arts. God's
wisdom alone can create the soul, as Prudence shows by an
exposition of its qualities.
Now Reason raised his reverend form, holding his triple
glass in which appear the causes and effects and qualities of
things. He humbly disclaimed the power to instruct
Minerva,^ and applauded the plan by which a new Lucifer
should sojourn in the world. May he unite all the gifts
which they can bestow, and be their champion against the
Vices. Now let their suppliant vows be sped to Him who
alone can create the divine mind. A legate should be
despatched above, bearing their request. For this office
none is so fit as Prudence, to whom the secrets of Heaven
are known, and whose energy and wisdom will surmount
the difficulties of the way.
Prudence at first refuses ; but Concordia rises, |the
inspirer of chaste loves, she who knit the souls of David
and Jonathan, Pirithous and Theseus, Nisus and Euryalus,
^ The allusion here is to the fate of Hippolytus, whose chariot-horses,
maddened by the wUes of Venus, dashed the chariot to pieces and caused their
lord's death.
* i. cap. vi. Her garb and attributes are elaborately told. In the latter
part of the poem she is usually called Phronesis.
^ A favourite commonplace ; Heloise uses it.
124 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
Orestes and Pylades. Persuasively she speaks, and points
out all the ills the world had suffered by disobedience to her
behests. Prudence is won over to the task, and now wills
only as her sisters will. She thinks upon the means and
way. Wisdom orders a chariot to be made, in which the
sea, the stars, the heavens may be traversed. Its artificers
are her seven daughters, wise and fair, who unite the skill
and knowledge of all those wise ancients who had excelled
in any Art. First Grammar (her functions and great writers
being told) forms the pole which goes before the axle-tree
{temo praeambulus axis). Then Logic makes the axle-tree ;
and Rhetoric adorns the pole with gems and the axle with
flowers. Arithmetic constructs one wheel of the chariot, and
Music the second. Geometry the third, and the fourth wheel
is made by Astronomy.^
Now Reason, at Nature's nod, yokes to the chariot the
five horses, to wit, the Senses disciplined and controlled,
Sight, Hearing, Smell, Taste, and Touch. He himself
mounts as charioteer, and bids Prudence follow. Amid the
farewells and plaudits of all, the chariot soars aloft. As it
speeds along. Prudence investigates atmospheric phenomena,
and then the spirits of evil who wander through the air.
They passed on through the upper ether, reached the citadel
and fount of light, where the Sun holds sway ; next was
reached the region where Venus and the star of Mercury sing
together and Lucifer exults, the herald of the day. Then to
their rapid flight appeared Mars' flaming palace, seething
with fire and wrath. Onward they passed to the glad light
and unhurtful flames of Jupiter, and then to Saturn's sphere.
At length they ascended the stellar region where the Pole
stars contend in brightness, where are seen Hercules and
Orion, Leda's twins, the fiery Crab, the Lion, and the rest of
the Zodiac's constellations.^
Here at heaven's entrance the chariot halted. Those
five horses of the Senses, charioteered by Reason, could
ascend no farther. But a damsel was seen, seated upon the
^ The functions of these vurgins, the Seven Liberal Arts, are poetically told.
The Anticlaudianus is no text-book. But the poet apparently is following the
De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii of Martianus Capella, ante, Chapter IV.
2 Compare the succession of Heavens in Dante's Paradiso.
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 125
summit of the Pole. She scrutinizes the hidden Cause and
End of all things, holding scales in her right hand and in
her left a sceptre. On her vestments a subtile point traces
God's secrets, and the formless is figured in form . Reverently
Phronesis, that is Prudence, saluted this Queen of the Pole,
and set forth the purpose of her journey, telling of Nature's
desire and her limitations. In reply Theology, for it is she,^
offered herself as a companion, and bade Prudence leave her
chariot, but keep the second courser (Hearing) to bear her
on. Prudence now surmounted the starry citadels, and
marvelled at heaven's nodes, where the four ways begin and
the crystalline waters flow, shot with agreeing fires ; for
here, in universal harmony transcending Nature's laws and
Reason's power. Concord unites those elements which war
below. Onward leads the way among those joys celestial
which know no tears, where there is peace without hate, and
light above all brightness. Here dwell the angel bands,
the Thunderer's princes, regulators of the world ; here glow
the seraphim, and cherubim drain draughts from the mind
of God ; and here are the Thrones whereon God balances
His weighed decrees, and with His band of Powers conquers
the tyrants.^ Here also rest the saints, freed from earth's
dross and passion, clothed in virgin white or martyr's purple,
or wearing the Doctor's laurel. Joyful alike are they, yet
diverse in merit, shining with unequal splendour.^ Here
finally, in honour surpassing all, is the Virgin Mother, clad
in the garb of our salvation — Star of the Sea, Way of Life,
Port of Salvation, Limit of Piety, Mother of Pity, Garden
closed. Sealed Font, Fruitful Olive, Sweet Paradise, Rose
without Thorn, Guiltless Grace, Way of the Wanderer, Light
of the Blind, Rest of the Tired — untold, unnumbered, and
unspeakable are her praises.*
Phronesis cannot bear the sight. Queen Theology calls
to her sister Faith to aid the fainting one. Faith comes
^ One may recall Raphael's painting of Theology on the ceiling of the Stanza
del Segnatura in the Vatican. It is impossible not to compare the roles of Alan's
Reason and Theology with those of Virgil and Beatrice in the Commedia.
^ Here we are back in the Celestial Hierarchy of Dionysius the Areopagite.
' As in Dante's Paradiso.
* Most of these epithets of the Virgin come from allegorical interpretations
of the text of the Vulgate.
126 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
and holds her Mirror before the eyes of Phronesis ; and in
this glass her eyes can endure the shaded glory of the
overpowering vision. She staggers on, her trembling steps
supported by Faith and Theology. In the glass she sees
the eternal and divine, the enduring, moveless, sure ; species
unborn, celestial ideas, the forms of men and principles of
things, causes of causes and the course of fate, the Thunderer's
mind ; why God condemns some, predestines others, prepares
that one for life and from this one withdraws His rewards ;
why poverty presses upon some and want is filled only with
tears ; why riches pour on others, why one is wise, another
lacking, and why the worthies of the past have been endowed
each with his several gifts. ^
Marvelling at all these sights. Prudence, supported by
the sisters, reached at last the palace of the King, and fell
prostrate before God himself. He bade her rise, and speak.
Humbly she set forth Nature's plight and the evil upon
earth, and presented her petition. God accedes benignantly.
He will not destroy the earth again, but will send a human
spirit endowed with heavenly gifts, a pilgrim to the earth, a
medicine for the world. Prudence worships. God summons
Mind, and orders him to fashion the type-form, the idea of
the human mind. Mind searches among existing beings for
the traces of this new idea or type.^ His difficult search
succeeds at last, and in the Mirror which he constructs, every
grace takes its abode : Joseph's form, the intelligence of
Judith, the patience of righteous Job, the modesty of Moses,
Jacob's simplicity, Abraham's faith, Tobias's piety. He
presents this pattern-type to God, who sets an accordant
soul therein, and then entrusts the new-made being to
Phronesis, while Mind anoints it with an unguent against the
attacks of the Vices. Phronesis, with her prize, turned to
the way by which she had ascended, regained her chariot
and Reason her charioteer. Together they sped back to the
congratulations of Nature and her Council.
For this perfect soul Nature now forms a beautiful body.
Concord unites the two, and a new man is formed, perfect
and free from flaw. Chastity and guardian Modesty endow
^ Compare the final vision of Dante in Paradiso, xxxui.
^ The reader will notice the Platonism and Neo-Platonism of all this.
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 127
him with their gifts ; Reason adds his, and Honesty. These
Logic follows, with her gift of skill in argument ; Rhetoric
brings her stores, then Arithmetic, next Music, next Geometry,
next Astronomy ; ^ while Theology and Piety are not behind
with theirs ; and to these Faith joins her gifts of fidelity and
truth. Last of all comes Nobility, Fortune's daughter. But
because she has nothing of her own to give, and must
receive all from her mother, she betakes herself to Fortune's
house of splendid mutability. What will Fortune give ? The
two return to Nature's palace, and Fortune's magnificence
is proffered by her daughter ; but Reason, standing by, will
allow only a measured acceptance.^
The report of this richly endowed creature reached
Alecto. Raging she summoned her pests, the chiefs of
Tartarus, doers of ill, masters of every sin — Injury, Fraud,
Perjury, Theft, Rapine, Fury and Anger, Hate, Discord,
Strife, Disease and Melancholy, Lust, Wantonness and
Need, Fear and Old Age. She roused them with a
harangue : their rule is threatened by this upstart Creature,
whom Parent Nature has prepared for war ; but what can
his untried imbecility do against them in arms ?
All clamour assent, and in a tumult of rage make ready
for the strife. The hostile ranks approach. The first attack
is made by Folly {Stultitia) and her comrades. Sloth,
Gaming, Idle Jesting, Ease and Sleep. But faithful Virtues
protect the constant youth against these foes. Next Discord
leads its mutinous band, but only to defeat. Onslaughts
follow from Poverty, next from Ill-Repute, from Old Age
and Disease. Then Grieving advances, and is overthrown by
Laughter. More deadly still are the attacks of Venus and
Lust ; then Excess and Wantonness take up the fray ; and
at the end Impiety and Fraud and Avarice. But still the
man conquers with the aid of his Virtues ever true.
The fight is over. The Virtues triumph and receive
their Kingdoms ; Vice succumbs ; Love reigns instead of
Discord ; the man is blessed ; and the earth, adorned with
^ Notice that the Arts are here equipping and perfecting the man for his
fight against sin ; — which corresponds with the common mediaeval view of the
function of education.
^ The poem gives a full description of Fortime and her house, and unstable
splendid gifts.
128 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
flowers in a new spring of youth, brings forth abundance.
The Poet sums up his poem's teaching : From God must
everything begin and in Him end. But our genius may not
stand inert ; ours is the strife as well, according to our
strength and faculty. Let the mind attach itself to the
things which are and do not pass, even as Plato sings, from
things of sense reaching on ever to the grades Angelic and
Olympus's steeps. Then it shall behold the universal praise
of God and the true ascription of all good to Him. He
in himself is perfect. Part and likewise Whole, and every-
where uncircumscribed. Nothing has power in itself, but
all would fall to nothing, did He close the flux of hidden
power.
Alanus, a good Christian Doctor, is also an eclectic in his
thought. A consistent system is hardly to be drawn from
his poem. It suggests Christ. But its hero is not the God-
man of the Incarnation. Its figures are semi-pagan. The
virtue Faith, for example, is the Fides, the Good Faith, of
the antique Roman, though it is the Christian virtue Faith
as well. In language the poem is antique ; its verse has
vigorous flow ; its imagery lacks neither beauty nor sub-
limity. It is in fact a poem, a creation, having a scheme
and unity of its own, although the author borrows con-
stantly. Martianus Capella is there and Dionysius the
Areopagite ; there also is the Psychomachia of Prudentius
and its progeny of symbolic battles between the Virtues and
the Vices. ^ Yet Alanus has achieved ; for he has woven his
material into a real poem and has reared his own lofty
allegory. His work is another grand example of mediaeval
symbolism.
Thus we see the ceaseless sweep of allegory through
men's minds. They felt and thought and dreamed in
allegories ; and also spent their dry ingenuity on allegorical
1 But the different names of Alanus's Virtues and Vices, and their novel
antagonisms, indicate an original view of morality with him. On the Psychomachia
see Taylor, Classical Heritage, pp. 278 sqq. and 379. Allegorical combats and
dibats (both in Latin and in the vernacular tongues) are frequent in mediaeval
literature. Cf. e.g. post, Chapter XXXI. Again, in certain parabolae ascribed to
St. Bernard (Migne 183, col. 757 sqq.) the various virtues, Prudentia, Fortitude,
Discretio, Temperantia, Spes, Timor, Sapientia, are so naturally made to act
and speak, that one feels they had become personalities proper for poetry and art.
Compare Hildegard's characterizations of the Vices, ante, Chapter XX.
CHAP. XXX SYMBOLIC WORKS OF MEN 129
constructions. It was reserved for one supreme poet to
create, out of this atmosphere, a supreme poem which is
as complete an allegory as the Antidaudianus. But the
Divina Commedia has also the power of its human
realities of actually experienced pain and joy, and hate and
love. Compared with it, the Antidaudianus betrays the
vapourings of monk and doctor, imaginative indeed, but
thin. The author's feet were not planted on the earth of
human life.
But the Middle Ages did not demand that allegory
should have its feet planted on the earth, so long as its head
nodded high among the clouds — or its sentiments wandered
sweetly in fancy's gardens. In one of these dwelt that
lovely Rose, whose Roman once had vogue. In structure
the Roman de la rose is an allegory from the beginning of
the first part by De Lorris to the very end of that encyclo-
paedic sequel added by De Meun. The story is well
known. ^ One may recall the fact that in De Lorris's poem
and De Meun's sequel every quality and circumstance of
Love's sentiment and fortunes are figured in allegorical
personifications — all the lover's hopes and fears and the
wavering chances of his quest.
In this respect the poem is the courtly and romantic
counterpart of such a philosophical or religious allegory
as the Antidaudianus. Personifications of the arts and
sciences, the vices and virtues, current since the time of
Prudentius's Psychomachia and Capella's Nuptials of Philo-
logy, were all in the Antidaudianus, while in the Roman
de la rose figure their secular and romantic kin : in
De Lorris's part, Love, Fair-Welcome, Danger, Reason,
Franchise, Pity, Courtesy, Shame, Fear, Idleness, Jealousy,
Wicked-Tongue ; then, with De Meun, others besides :
^ The English reader will derive much pleasiure from F. S. Ellis's admirable
verse translation : The Romance of the Rose (Dent and Co., London, 1900). Each
of the three little volumes of this translation has a convenient synopsis of the
contents. Those who would know what is known of the tale and its authors
should read Langlois's chapter on it, in Histoire de la langue et de la litterature
frangaise, edited by Petit de Julleville. It may be said here, for those whose
memories need refreshing, that William de Lorris wrote the first part, some forty-
two hundred lines, about the year 1237, and died leaving it unfinished ; John de
Meun took up the poem some thirty years afterwards, and added his sequel of
more than eighteen thousand lines.
VOL. II K
I30 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookv
Richesse, False-Seeming, Hypocrisy, Nature, and Genius.^
The figures of the Roman de la rose have diverse antecedents
scattered through the entire store of knowledge and classic
literature possessed by the Middle Ages ; perhaps their
immediate source of inspiration was the scheme of courtly
love which the mediaeval imagination elaborated and
revelled in.^ The poem of De Lorris was a veritable
romantic allegory. De Meun, in his sequel, rather plays
with the allegorical form, which he continues ; it has become
a frame for his stores of learning, his knowledge of the
world, his views of life, his wit and satire, and his great
literary and poetic gifts. Yet it ends in a regular
Psychomachia, in which Love's barons are hard beset by all
the foes of Love's delight, though Love has its will at last.
1 The names are Englished after Elhs's translation.
^ See ante, Chapter XXIV. ; De Meun took much from the Deplanctu naturae
of Alanus.
*
BOOK VI
LATINITY AND LAW
131
CHAPTER XXXI
THE SPELL OF THE CLASSICS
I. Classical Reading.
n. Grammar.
in. The Effect upon the Mediaeval Man ; Hildebert of
Lavardin.
During all the mediaeval centuries, men approached the
Classics expecting to learn from them. The usual attitude
toward the classical heritage was that of docile pupils
looking for instruction. One may recall the antecedent
reasons of this, which have already been stated at length.
In Italy, letters survived as the most impressive legacy from
an overshadowing past. In the north, save where they
lingered on from the antique time, they came in the train
of Latin Christianity, and were offered to men under the
same imposing conditions of a higher civilization authori-
tatively instructing ruder peoples. Moreover, between the
ancient times which produced the classic literature and the
Carolingian period there intervened centuries of degeneracy
and transition, when the Classics were used pedagogically to
teach grammar and rhetoric. Then grammars were com-
posed or revised, and other handbooks of elementary
instruction. The Classics still were loved ; but how shall
men love beyond their own natures ? Gifted Jerome, great
Augustine, loved them with an ardour bringing its own
misgivings. Other lovers, like Ausonius and ApoUinaris
Sidonius, were pedantic imitators.
Both north and south of the Alps another and obviously
enduring cause fostered the habit of regarding the Classics
133
134 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
as storehouses of knowledge : the fact that they were such
for all the mediaeval centuries. They included not only
poetry and eloquence, but also history, philosophy, natural
knowledge, law and polity. The knowledge contained in
them exceeded what the men of western Europe otherwise
possessed. As century after century passed, mediaeval men
learned more for themselves, and also drew more largely on
the classic store. Yet it remained unexhausted. The twelfth
and thirteenth centuries constitute the great mediaeval
epoch. Men were then opening their eyes a little to observe
the natural world, and were thinking a little for themselves.
Nevertheless the chief increase in knowledge issued from the
gradual discovery and mastering of the works of Aristotle.
These centuries, like their predecessors, make clear that men
who inherit from a greater past a universal literature con-
taining the best they can conceive and more knowledge than
they can otherwise attain, will be likely to regard every part
of this literature as in some way a source of knowledge,
physical or metaphysical, historical or ethical. And the
Classics merited such regard ; for where they did not instruct
in science, they imparted knowledge of life, and norms and
instances of conduct, from which men still may draw guidance.
We have outlearned the physics, and perhaps the meta-
physics of the Greeks ; their knowledge of nature, in com-
parison with ours, was but as a genial beginning ; their
polities and their formal ethics we have tried and tested ;
but we have not risen above the power and inspiration of
the story of Greece and Rome, and the exemplifications of
life in the Greek and Latin Classics. It has not ceased to
be true that he who best loves the Classics, and most deeply
feels their unique excellence as literature, is he who still
draws life from them, and discipline and knowledge. Their
true lovers, like the true lovers of all noble literature, are
always in a state of pupilage to the poems and the histories
they love.
Obviously then no final word lies in the statement that
through the Middle Ages men turned to the Classics for
instruction. They did indeed turn to them for all kinds
of knowledge, and for discipline. Often they looked for
instruction from Ovid or Virgil in a way. to make us smile.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 135
Often they were like schoolboys, dully conning words which
they did not feel and so did not understand. But in the
tenth century, and in the twelfth, some men admired and
loved the Latin Classics, and drew from them, as we may,
lessons which are learned only by those who love aright.
It would be hard to say what the men of the Middle
Ages did not thus gain. Thelpagan classical literature was
one of humanity in its full range of interests. This was
true of the Greek ; and from the Greek, the universal human
passed to the Latin, which the Middle Ages were to know.
In both literatures, man was a denizen of earth. The laws
of mortality and fate were held before his eyes ; and the
action of the higher powers bore upon mortal happiness,
rather than upon any life to come. When reflecting upon
the use and influence of the Classics through the Middle
Ages, it is always to be kept in mind that the antique
literature was the literature of this life and of this world ;
that it was universal in its humanity, and still in the Middle
Ages might touch every human love and human interest
not directly connected with the hopes and tensors of the
Judgment Day.
So whenever educated mediaeval men were drawn by the
ambitions or moved by the finer joys of human life, it lay
in their path to seek instruction or satisfaction from some
antique source. If a man wished the common education
of a clerk, he drew it from antique text-books and their
commentaries. Grammar and rhetoric meant Latin grammar
and Latin rhetoric ; dialectic also was Latin and antique.
Likewise the quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy,
and music, could be studied only in Latin. These ordinary
branches of education having been mastered, if then the
man's tastes or ambitions turned to the interests of earth
(and who except the saintly recluse was not so drawn ?)
he would still look to the antique. A civilian or an ecclesi-
astic would need some knowledge of law, which for the
most part was Roman, even when disguised as Canon law.^
Did a man incline toward philosophy, and the scrutiny of
life's deeper problems, again the source was the antique ;
and when he lifted his mind to theology, he would still find
1 Post, Chapter XXXIV.
136 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
himself reasoning in categories of antique dialectic. Finally,
and this was a broad field of humane inclination, if a clerkly
educated man loved poetry, eloquence, and history, for their
own sakes, he also would turn to the antique.
There is scarcely need to revert again to the use of the
Classics in the earlier Middle Ages. We have seen that in
Italy they never ceased to form the conscious background
to all intellectual life ; and that in the north, letters came a
handmaid in the train of Latin Christianity — a handmaid
that was apt to assert her own value, and also charm the
minds of men. From the first, it was the orthodox view
that Latin letters should provide the education enabling men
to understand the Christian religion adequately. This is
the object set forth in Charlemagne's Capitularies upon
education.^ Three hundred years later Honorius of Autun
says in his sermonizing way :
" Not only, beloved, do the sacred writings lead us to eternal
life, but profane letters also teach us ; for edifying matter may
be drawn from them. In view of sacred examples no one should
be scandalized at this. For the children of Israel spoiled the
Egyptians ; they took gold and silver, gems and precious vest-
ments, which they afterwards turned into God's treasury to build
the tabernacle." ^
Honorius used Augustine's reference to the Egyptians,
and followed this Augustinian view, always recognized as
orthodox in the Middle Ages. It was narrower than the
practice among those who followed letters. Gerbert at the
close of the tenth century loved to teach and read the pagan
writers, and drew from them training and discipline.^ In
the next century, the German monk Froumund of Tegemsee,
with Bernward and Godehard, bishops of Hildesheim, are
instances of German love of antique letters.* Yet lofty
souls might choose to limit their reading of the Classics, at
least in theory, to the needs of their Latinity. Such a one
was Hugo of St. -Victor, scholar, theologian, man of genius ; ^
he professed to care more for the Christian ardours of
the soul than for learning even as a means of righteousness,
1 Ante, Vol. I. p. 213. - Migne, Pat. Lat. 172, col. 1056.
3 Ante, Chapter XII., i. * Ante, Chapter XIII., i.
6 Ante, Chapter XXIX.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 137
and chose to take the side of those who would read the
classic authors only so far as the needs of education
demanded :
" There are two kinds of writings, first those which are termed
the artes proper, secondly, those which are the supplements
(appendentia) of the artes. Artes comprise the works grouped
under {supponuntur) philosophy, those which contain some
fixed and determined matter of philosophy, as grammar, dia-
lectic and the like. Appendentia artium are those [writings]
which touch philosophy less nearly and are occupied with some
subject apart from it ; and yet sometimes offer flotsam and
jetsam from the artes, or simply as narratives smooth the road
to philosophy. All the songs of poets are such — tragedies,
comedies, satires, heroics, and lyrics too, and iambics, besides
certain didactic works {didascalica) ; tales likewise, and histories ;
also the writings of those nowadays called philosophers, who
extend a brief matter with lengthy circumlocution, and thus
darken a simple meaning.
" Note then well the distinction I have drawn for thee :
distinct and different {duo) are the artes and their appenditia,
. . . and often from the latter the student will gain much labour
and little fruit. The artes, without their appenditia, may make
the reader perfect ; but the latter, without the artes, can bring
no whit of perfection. Wherefore one should first of aU devote
himself to the artes, which are so fundamental, and to the afore-
said seven above all, which are the means and instruments
{instrumenta) of all philosophy. Then let the rest be read, if one
has leisure, since sometimes the playful mingled with the serious
especially delights us, and we are apt to remember a moral found
in a tale." ^
Temperament affected Hugo's view. He was of the
spiritual aristocracy, who may be somewhat disdainful of
the common means by which men get their education and
round out their natures. The mechanical monotony of
pedagogy grated on him and evoked the ironical sketch of a
school-room, which he put in his dialogue on the Vanity of
the World. The little Discipulus, directed by his Magister,
is survejdng human things.
" Turn again, and look," says the latter, " and what do you
see ? "
" I see the schools of learners. There is a great crowd, and of
aU ages, boys and youths, men young and old. They study
^ Didascalicon, iii. 4 (Migne 176, col. 768-769).
138 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
various things. Some practise their rude tongue at the alphabet
and at words new to them. Others hsten to the inflection of
words, their composition and derivation ; then by reciting and
repeating them they try to commit them to memory. Others
furrow the waxen tablets with a stylus. Others, guiding the
calamus with learned hand, draw figures of different shapes and
colours on parchments. Still others with sharper zeal seem to
dispute on graver matters and try to trip each other with twistings
and impossibilities (gryphis ?). I see some also making calcula-
tions, and some producing various sounds upon a cord stretched
on a frame. Others, again, explain and demonstrate geometric
figures ; and yet others with various instruments show the
positions and courses of the stars and the movement of the
heavens. Others, finally, consider the nature of planets, the con-
stitution of men, and the properties and powers of things."
The Disciple is captivated with this many-coloured show
of learning ; but the Master declares it to be mostly foolish-
ness, distracting the student from understanding his own
nature, his Creator, and his future lot.^
These are examples, which might be multiplied indefinitely,
of the pious mediaeval view that the artes, with a very little
reading of the auctores, were proper for the educated Christian,
whose need was to understand Scripture. Sometimes, stung,
at least rhetorically, by fear of the lust and idolatry of the
antique, mediaeval souls cry out against its lures, even as
Jerome's Christianly protesting nature dreamed that famous
dream of exclusion from heaven as a " Ciceronian." Alcuin,
who led the educational movement under Charlemagne,
gently chides one whose fondness for Virgil made him
forget his friend — " would that the Gospels rather than the
Aeneid filled thy breast." ^ Three hundred years later, St.
Peter Damiani, himself a virtuoso in letters and a sometime
teacher of rhetoric, arraigns the monks for teaching grammar
rather than things spiritual.^ Damiani speaks with the
harshness of one who fears what he loves. In France, about
the same time, our worthy sermon-writer, Honorius of Autun,
liked the profanities well enough, and drew from them apt
moral tales, which preachers might introduce to rouse drowsy
^ De vanitate mundi, i. (Migne 176, col. 709, 710).
^ Ep. 169 (Migne, Pat. Lat. 100, col. 441).
^ Opusc. xiii. ; De perfedione monachi, cap. xi. (Migne 144, col. 306). See
ante, Chapter XVII.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 139
congregations. Yet he directs his pulpit-thunder at the
cives Babyloniae, the superbi, who after their several tastes
finger profane literature to their peril : " Those delighting in
quibbling learn Aristotle : the lovers of war have Maro, and
the lustful idlers their Naso, Lucan and Statins incite
discords, while Horace and Terence equip the pert and
wanton {petulantes) — but since the names of these are blotted
from the book of hfe, I shall not commemorate them with
my lips." ^
This with the excellent Honorius was pious rhetoric.
Yet the love and fear of antique letters caused anxiety in
many a mediaeval soul, deflected by them from its narrow
path to the heavenly Jerusalem. Indeed the love of letters
and of knowledge was to play its part, and might take one
side or the other, according to the motive of their pursuit,
in the great mediaeval psychomachia between the cravings of
mortal life and the militant insistencies of the soul's salva-
tion. This conflict, not confined to mediaeval monks, has
its universal aspects. It echoes in the sigh of Michel-
angelo over the
" a£Eectuosa fantasia,
Che r arte si fece idolo e monarca,"
- — which had so long drawn his heart from Eternity. ^
Commonly, however, this conflict did not greatly disturb
scholars who felt in some degree the classic spell so manifold
of delight in themes delightful, of pleasure somehow drawn
from clear statement and convincing sequence of thought,
of even deeper happiness springing from the stirring of those
faculties through which man rejoices in knowledge. To be
sure, readers of the Classics, who drew joy from them or
satisfaction, or humane instruction, were comparatively few
in the mediaeval centuries' as they are to-day. And un-
doubtedly in the Middle Ages the Classics usually were
read in unenlightened schoolboy fashion. Yet making
these reservations, we may be sure that letters yielded up
their joys to the chosen few in every mediaeval century.
" Amor litterarum ab ipso fere initio pueritiae mihi est in-
natus," wrote Lupus in the ninth. ^ Gerbert might have said
^ speculum ecclesiae (Migne 172, col. 1085).
^ Sonnet 56. ^ Ep. i. (Migne 119, col. 433).
I40 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
the same, and many of the men who taught at Chartres in the
generations following. So likewise might have said John of
Sahsbury. In studying the Classics he certainly looked to
them for instruction. But he also loved them, and found
companionship and solace in them, as he says, and as Cicero
before him had said of letters.
We may ask ourselves what sort of pleasure do we get
from reading the Classics ? not necessarily a light distract-
ing of the mind, but rather a deeper gratification : thought
is aroused and satisfied, and our nature is appeased by the
admirable presentation of things admirable. At the same
time we may be conscious of discipline and benefit. There
is good reason to suppose that a like pleasure, or satisfaction,
with discipline and instruction, came to this exceedingly
clever John from reading Terence, Virgil and Ovid, Horace,
Juvenal, Lucan, Persius and Statins, Cicero, Seneca and
Quintilian — for he read them all.^ John is affected, im-
pressed, and trained by his classic reading ; he has absorbed
his authors ; he quotes from them as spontaneously and
aptly as he quotes from Scripture. A quotation from the one
or the other may give final point to an argument, and have
its own eloquent suggestions. Sometimes the tone of one
of his own letters — which usually are excellent in form and
language — may agree with that of the pithy antique quota-
tion garnishing it. A mediaeval writer was not likely to
say just what we should when expressing ourselves on the
same matter. Yet John makes quite clear to us how he
cared for antique letters, in the Prologue to his Policraticus,
his chief work on philosophy and life ; and we may take his
word as to the satisfaction which he drew from them, since
his own writings prove his assiduity in their cult. This
prologue is somewhat cherche, and imbued with a preciosity
of sentiment putting one in mind of Cicero's oration Pro
Archia poeta.
" Most delightful in many ways, but in this especially, is the
fruit of letters, that banishing the irksomeness of intervals of
place and time, they bring friends into each other's presence,
1 John approved of reading the atidores, for educational purposes, and not
confining the pupil to the aries. See Metalogicus, i. 23, 24 (Migne, Pat. Lat.
iqg, col. 453). On John, cf. post, Chapter XXXII. and XXXVII., in.
.sAP.xxxi SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 141
and do not suffer noteworthy things to perish from mould. For
the arts would have perished, laws would have vanished, the
of&ces of faith and religion would have fallen away, and even the
rorrect use of language would have failed, had not the divine pity,
as a remedy for human infirmity, provided letters for the use of
mortals. Ancient examples, which incite to virtue, would cheer
and serve no one, had not the pious soHcitude of writers trans-
mitted them to posterity. . . . Who would know the Alexanders
and the Caesars, or admire Stoics and Peripatetics, had not the
monuments of writers signalized them ? Triumphal arches
promote the glory of illustrious men from the carved scroll of
their deeds. The observer recognizes the Liberator of his Country,
the Estabhsher of Peace, only when the inscription reveals Con-
stantine the Victor whom Britain brought forth. The light of
fame endures for no one save through his own or another's writing.
How many and how great kings thinkest thou there have been, of
whom there is neither speech nor thought ? Vainly are noble
deeds performed if their fame does not shine in the light of letters.
Other favour or distinction is as when fabled Echo catches the
plaudits of the Play, ceasing the moment it has begun.
" Besides all this, solace in grief, recreation in labour, cheer-
fulness in poverty, modesty among riches and delights, faithfully
are bestowed by letters. For the soul is redeemed from its vices,
and even in adversity refreshed with sweet and wondrous cheer,
when the mind is intended upon reading or writing what is profit-
able. Thou shalt find in human life no more pleasing or more
useful employment ; unless perchance devotion divinely spurred
by prayer attains divine colloquies, or with heart dilated through
love conceives God, and as with the hand of meditation touches
within itself the great things of God. Believe one who has tried
it, that all the sweets of the world, compared with these exercises,
are wormwood." ^
Hereupon, still addressing himself to his friend and
patron, Thomas k Becket, John suggests that these recrea-
tions are peculiarly beneficial to men in their circumstances,
burdened with affairs ; and he puts his principles in practice,
by launching forth upon his lengthy work of learned and
philosophic disquisition.
To supplement this outline of John's appreciation of the
Classics, it will be interesting to look into the literary inter-
pretation of a classical poem, from the pen of one of his
contemporaries. So little is known of the author, Bernard
^ PoUcraticus, Prologus (Migne, Pat. Lat. 199, col. 385) ; p. 12 in the (better)
Oxford edition by Webb, Joannis Saresberiensis Policratici libri VIII. (1909).
142 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
Silvestris, that he usually has been confused with his more
famous fellow, Bernard of Chartres. We may refer to both
of them again. ^ Here our business is solely with the
Commentum Bernardi Silvestris super sex lihros Aeneidos
Virgilii.^ The writer draws from the Saturnalia of the fifth-
century grammarian, Macrobius ; but his allegorical inter-
pretation of the Aeneid seems to be his own. He finds in
the Aeneid a twofold consideration, in that its author meant
to teach philosophic truth, and at the same time was not
inattentive to the poetic plot.
" Since then Virgil in this poem is both philosopher and poet,
we shall first expound the purpose and method of the poet. . . .
His aim is to unfold the calamities of Aeneas and other Trojans,
and the labours of the exiles. Herein disregarding the truth of
history as told by Dares the Phrygian,^ and seeking to win the
favour of Augustus, he adorns the facts with figments. For
Virgil, greatest of Latin poets, wrote in imitation of Homer,
greatest of Greek poets. As Homer in the Iliad narrates the fall
of Troy and in the Odyssey the exile of Ulysses ; so Virgil in the
second Book briefly relates the overthrow of Troy, and in the rest
the labours of Aeneas. Consider the twin order of narration, the
natural and the artistic {artificialem). The natural is when the
narrative proceeds according to the sequence of events, teUing
first what happened first, Lucan and Statius keep to this order.
The artistic is when we begin in the middle of the story, and thence
revert to the commencement. Terence writes thus, and Virgil in
this work. It would have been the natural order to have
described first the destruction of Troy, and then brought the
Trojans to Crete, from Crete to Sicily, and from Sicily to Libya.
But he first brings them to Dido, and introduces Aeneas relating
the overthrow of Troy and the other things that he has suffered.*
"Up to this point we show how he proceeds : next let us
observe why he does it so. With poets there is the reason of use-
fulness, as with a satirist ; the reason of pleasure, as with a writer
of comedies ; and again these two combined, as with the historical
poet. As Horace says :
' Aut prodesse volunt aut delectare poetae,
Aut simul et iucunda et idonea dicere vitae.
1 Post, Chapter XXXVII., ni.
2 I draw upon the extracts given in the thesis of M. Demimuid, De Bernardo
Carnotensi grammatico professore et interprete Virgilii (Paris, 1873), who, as appears
by his title, confuses the two Bernards.
3 The author of a bastard epitome on the Trojan War, see post, Chapter
XXXIII., IV.
* The above, in substance, is taken from Macrobius.
■nTI>t>v?>pw,Mi
CHAP- XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS i
" This kind of a historical poem is shown by its fisurativs =,„^
poUshed diction and in the various mischances and deeds narrated
If any one will study to imitate it he will gain skiU in v^w'
The nairative also contains instances and arguments for foUowhS
the right and avoiding what is evil. Hence a twofold profit T ttf
reader : skiU in writing, gamed through imitation, and pnidence
i, conduct, drawn from example and precept. For instate S
the labours of Aeneas we have an example of endurSce and
one of piety, m his affection for Anchises and Ascanius Vro ™
the reverence which he shows the gods, from the oracles wS
be supphcates from the sacrifices which he offers, from tte vows
andprayers which he pours forth, we feel drawn to rehgTon IZl
Sdden^° ' " """' '°™' "' ''' ^"^"'<* fr°- dfs™e foTtiie
The above is excellent, but not particularly original
i" thi?:'at°"HTa ^* """T't ^""'"^ ^PP^^-^'« *^ ^"^^
m this way^ His allegoncal interpretation is of a piece with
current mediaeval methods. Yet to take a poem allegoricTl y
was not distmctively mediaeval ; for Homer and other poetl
had been thus expounded from the days of Plato, who did not
ersentfre^f thf*' ^T"'' "'''' ^°* "' *« ^^
represents one of the ages of man, the first Book betokening
mfancy, the second boyhood, and so forth. ^ egorica!
etymologies are applied to the names of the personages and
m general the whole natural course and setting of the poem
d t'" !,"r™^"y- " The sea is the human body move"
and tossed by drunkenness and lusts, which are repre^enled
by waves." Aeneas, to wit, the human soul joined to Us
body, comes to Carthage, the mundane city where Dido
reigns, which is lust ; this allegory is unfolLrin detlu
So the mterpretation ambles on, not more and noTi '
lejune than such ingenuities usuaiy are. ''"'
centSr't ''"^''' '''*''^ '^''' ^«°«h in the twelfth
tars • and" T^-^? *"* "^^"'"^y ™^P^==«d **= Pre
wMch dented tn tt'"'"' '*"f = " ^"'='="^<^ '^' thirteenth,
mergies The . ml" ^ ""^"''' P"«°" °* "^ intellectua
iwSlt%i ^''^ t^-^'fth century, to be sure, was prodigiously
interested in dialectic and theology. Yet these hfd nn^
ht^:tTnXtr^""^^^^ ™^^^^-y°^^^^^^
m physical or experimental science distracted the
144 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
eyes of men from the charms of the ancient written page.
The change took place in the thirteenth century. Its best
intellectual efforts, north of the Alps at least, were directed
to the study and theological appropriation of the Aristotelian
encyclopaedia of metaphysics and universal knowledge . ^ The
effect of Aristotle was totally unliterary. And the minds
of men, absorbed in mastering this giant mass of knowledge
and argument, ceased to regard literary form and the
humane aspects of Latin literature.
Until the thirteenth century, dialectic and theology were
not completely severed from helles lettres. The Platonic-
Augustinian theology of the twelfth century had been
idealizing and imaginative, not to say poetical. Such an
interesting exponent of it as Hugo of St. Victor appears as
a literary personage, despite his stinted advocacy of classical
study. One notes that for his time the chief single source
of physical knowledge was the Latin version of the Timaeus,
certainly not a prosaic composition. Thus, for the twelfth
century, an effective cause of the continuance of the study
of letters lay herein : whatever branch of natural knowledge
might allure the student, he could not draw it bodily from
a serious but unliterary repository, like the Physics or De
animalihus of Aristotle, which were not yet available ; he
must follow his bent through the writings of various Latin
poets as well as prose-writers. In fine, the sources of profane
knowledge open to the twelfth century were literary in their
nature, and might form part of the literature which would be
read by a student of grammar or rhetoric.
One sees this in John of Salisbury. There may have
been a few men who knew more than he did of some
particular topic. But his range and readiness of knowledge
were unique. And it is evident from his writings that his
knowledge (except in logic) had no special or scientific
source, but was derived from a promiscuous reading of
Latin literature. As a result, he is himself a literary man.
One may say much the same of his younger contemporary,
Alanus de Insulis.^ He too has gathered knowledge from
literary sources, and he himself is one of the best Latin
1 Post, Chapter XXXVIII.
2 Ante, Chapter XXX., ii., and post. Chapter XXXVIL, in.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 145
poets of the Middle Ages. Another extremely poetic
philosopher was Bernard Silvestris, the interpreter of Virgil.
His De mundi unitate is a Pantheistic exposition of the
Universe ; it is also a poem ; and incidentally it affords
another illustration of the general fact, that before the works
of Aristotle were made known and expounded in the
thirteenth century, all kinds of natural and quasi-philosophic
knowledge were drawn from a variety of writings, some of
them poor enough from any point of view, but none of them
distinctly scientific and unliterary, like the works of Aristotle.
Formal logic or dialectic, as cultivated by Abaelard for
example, appears as an exception. It had been specialized
and more scientifically treated than any branch of sub-
stantial knowledge ; for indeed it was based on the logical
treatises of Aristotle, most of which were in use before
Abaelard's death, and all of which were known to Thierry
of Chartres and John of Salisbury.^
The contrast between the cathedral school of Chartres
and the University of Paris illustrates the change from the
twelfth to the thirteenth century. The former has been
spoken of in a previous chapter, where its story was brought
down to the times of its great teachers, Bernard and Thierry,
of whom we shall have to speak in connection with the
teaching of grammar and the reading of classical authors.
The school flourished exceedingly until the middle of the
twelfth century.^ By that time the schools of Paris had
received an enormous impetus from the popularity of
Abaelard, and scholars had begun to push thither from all
quarters. But it was not till the latter part of the century
that the University, with its organization of Masters and
Faculties, began visibly to emerge out of the antecedent
cathedral school.^ Chartres was a home of letters ; and
1 Post, Chapter XXXVIL, i.
^ For a successor or friendly rival to Chartres, in the interest taken in grammar
and classical literature, one should properly look to Orleans, where apparently
those studies continued to flourish. Of. L. Delisle, " Les jfecoles d'Orleans au
douzieme sifecle," Annuaire- Bulletin de la SociSte de I'Histoire de France, t. vii,
(1869), p. 139 sqq. In a Bataille des sept arts, by Henri d'Andeli, of the first
half of the thirteenth century, Logic, from its stronghold of Paris, vanquishes
Grammar, whose stronghold is Orleans. In the conflict, with much symbolic
truth, Aristotle overthrows Priscian, Histoire Utteraire de la France, t. xxiii. p.
225. 3 Pqsi^ Chapter XXXVIII.
VOL. II L
146 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi \
i
there Latin literature was read enthusiastically. But in
Paris Abaelard was pre-eminently a dialectician ; and after
he died, through those decades when the University was
coming into existence, the tide of study set irresistibly
toward theology and metaphysics. Students and masters
of the Faculty of Arts outnumbered all the other Faculties ;
nevertheless, counting not by tumultuous numbers, but by
intellectual strength, the great matter was Theology, and the
majority of the Masters in the Arts were students in the
divine science. The Arts were regarded as a preparatory
discipline. So through its great period, which roughly
coincides with the thirteenth century, the University of
Paris was for all Europe the supreme seat of Dialectic,
Metaphysics, and Theology, and yet no kindly nurse of
belles lettres.
The tendencies of Oxford were not quite the same as
those of Paris, yet Latin literature as such does not seem to
have been cultivated there for its own fair sake. This
apparently was unaffected by the fact that at Oxford there
took place a notable movement aiming at the acquisition of
a substantial knowledge of Greek and Hebrew and even
Arabic. The promoters were Robert Grosseteste and his
pupil Roger Bacon. The former was Oxford's first great
teacher and inspirer. He was bom in Suffolk about the
year 1175 ; studied at Lincoln, then at Oxford, then at
Paris, whence he returned to become chancellor of the
University of Oxford. He was a devoted friend to the
Franciscans, and lectured in their house at Oxford. Made
bishop of Lincoln in 1236, he died seventeen years later.^
Bacon praises Grosseteste for his devotion to mathematics
and physics, saying : " No one knew the sciences save Lord
Robert, Bishop of Lincoln, from his length of life, experience,
studiousness and industry, and because he knew mathe-
matics and optics, and was able to know all things ; and he
knew enough of the languages to understand the saints and
philosophers of antiquity ; but not enough to translate
them, unless toward the end of his life, when he invited
Greeks, and had books of Greek grammar gathered from
1 His works have at last been edited by L. Baur, Die philosophischen Werke
des Robert Grosseteste (Baeumker's Beitrdge, 1912).
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 147
Greece and elsewhere." ^ Bacon also says that Grosseteste
" gave the Latins some part of the writings of St. Dionysius
[the pseudo-Areopagite] and of Damascenus,^ and some other
holy Doctors." There is other evidence of Grosseteste's
work as a translator, or co-operator in translations, from the
Greek and even Hebrew.^ Bacon was himself a better
Greek scholar than the older man, and wrote a Greek
grammar,* and endeavoured to incite men to a study of
these tongues. But neither Grosseteste nor Bacon appears
to have been moved by any literary interest in Greek
literature ; both one and the other urged the importance of
Greek, and of Hebrew too and Arabic, in order to reach a
surer knowledge of Scripture and Aristotle.^ They sought
to open the veritable founts of theology and natural know-
ledge, an intelligent aim indeed, but quite unliterary. In
spirit both these men belong to the thirteenth century, not
to the twelfth.
In Italy, one does not find that the passage from the
twelfth to the thirteenth century displays the decline in
classical studies which is apparent north of the Alps. The
reasons seem obvious. The passion for metaphysical
theology did not invade this land of practical ecclesiasticism
and urban living, where pagan antiquity, dumb, broken, and
defaced, yet everywhere surviving, was the medium of life
and thought and temperamental inclination in the thirteenth
as well as in the twelfth century. Nor was Italy as yet
becoming scientific, or greatly interested in physical
hypothesis ; although medicine was cultivated in various
centres, Salerno, for example, and Bologna, But for the
twelfth, and for the thirteenth century as well, Italy's great
intellectual achievement was in the two closely neighbouring
sciences of canon and civil law. These made the University
of Bologna as pre-eminent in law as Paris was in theology.
There had been schools of grammar and rhetoric at Bologna
^ opus tertium, Chapter XXV., p. 91 (Brewer's text).
^ John of Damascus, an influential theologian of the Greek church, who
wrote in the first half of the eighth century. Of. post, p. 336, note.
' See Grabmann, Ges. der schol. Methode, ii. pp. 81 sqq. ; M. R. James, " The
Christian Renaissance," Chapter XVII. of The Cambridge Modern History.
Grosseteste translated apparently The Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs and
some parts of Eriugena.
* Post, p. 155. s See post, Chapter XLII.
148 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
and Ravenna, before the lecturing of Irnerius on the
Pandects drew to the first-named town the concourse of
mature and seemly students who were gradually to organize
themselves into a university.^ Thus at Bologna law
flourished and grew great, springing upward from an
antecedent base of grammatical if not literary studies. The
study of the law never cut itself away from this foundation.
For the exigencies of legal business demanded training in
the scrivener's and notarial arts of inditing epistles and
drawing documents, for which the ars dictaminis, to wit, the
art of composition was of primary utility. This ars, teaching
as it did both the general rules of composition and the more
specific forms of legal or other formal documents, pertained
to law as well as grammar. Of the latter study it was
perhaps in Italy the main element or, rather, end. But even,
without this hybrid link of the dictamen, grammar was needed
for the interpretation of the Pandects ; and indeed some
of the glosses of Irnerius and other early glossators are
grammatical rather than legal explanations of the text.
We should bear in mind that this august body of juris-
prudential law existed not in the inflated statutory Latin of
Justinian's time, but in the sonorous and correct language
of the earlier empire, when the great Jurists lived, as well
as Quintilian. Accordingly a close study of the Pandects
required, as well as yielded, a knowledge of classical
Latinity. Thus law tended to foster, rather than repress,
grammar and rhetoric ; and had no unfavourable effect on
classical studies. And even as such studies " flourished " in
Italy in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, they did not
cease to " flourish," there in the thirteenth, in the same
general though rather dull and uncreative way. For it will
hereafter appear that the productions of the Latin poets and
rhetoricians of Italy were below the literary level of those
composed north of the Loire in France, or in England. -
II
From the days of the Roman Empire, the study of
grammar was, and never ceased to be, the basis of the
1 Cf. post, Chapter XXXIV. and XXXVIII.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 149
conscious and rational knowledge of the Latin tongue. The
Roman boys studied it at Rome ; the Latin -speaking
provincials studied it, and all people of education who
remained in the lands of western Europe which once had
formed part of the Empire ; its study was renewed under
Charlemagne ; he and Alcuin and all the scholars of the
ninth century were deeply interested in what to them
represented tangible Latinity, and in fact was to be a chief
means by which their mediaeval civilization should maintain
its continuity with its source. For grammar was most
instrumental in preserving mediaeval Latin from violent
deflections, which would have left the ancient literature as
the literature of a forgotten tongue. Had mediaeval Latin*
failed to keep itself veritable Latin ; had it instead suffered
transmutation into local Romance dialects, the Latin classics,
and all that hung from them, might have become as unknown
to the Middle Ages as the Greek, and even have been lost
forever. It was the study of Latin grammar, with classic
texts to illustrate its rules, that kept Latin Latin, and
preserved standards of universal usage throughout western
Europe, by which one language was read and spoken
everywhere by educated people. From century to century
this language suffered modification, and varied according to
the knowledge and training of those who used it ; yet its
changes were never such as to destroy its identity as a
language, or prevent the Latin writer of one age or country
from understanding whatever in any land or century had
been written in that perennial tongue.
Therefore fortunately, as the Carolingian scholars studied
Latin grammar, so likewise did those of all succeeding
mediaeval generations, thereby holding themselves to at
least a homogeneity, though not an unvarying uniformity, of
usage. Evidently, however, the method of grammatical
instruction had to vary with the needs of the learners and
the teachers' skiU. The Romans prattled Latin on their
mothers' knees ; and so, with gradually widening deflections,
did the Latinized provincials. Neither Roman nor Provincial
prattled Ciceronian periods, or used quite the vocabulary of
Virgil ; yet it was Latin that they talked. Thenceforward
there was to be a difference between the people who lived in
ISO THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
countries where Romance dialects had emerged from the
spoken Latin and prevailed, and those people who spoke a
Teuton speech. Although always drawing away, the natal
speech of Romance peoples was so like Latin, that in learning
it they seemed rather to correct their vulgar tongue than to
acquire a new language. So it was in the Christian parts of
Spain, in Gaul, and, above all, in Italy, where the vulgar
dialects were tardiest in taking distinctive form. Never-
theless, as the Romance dialects, for instance in the coimtry
north of the Loire, developed into the various forms of
what is called Old French, young people at school would have
to learn Latin as a quasi-foreign tongue. Across the Rhine
in Germany boys ordinarily had to learn it at school, as a
strange language, just as they must to-day ; and every effort
was devoted to this end.^ It was not likely that the grammars
composed for Roman boys, or at least for boys who spoke
Latin from their infancy, would altogether meet the needs of
German, or even French, youth. Yet only gradually and
slowly in the Middle Ages were grammars put together to
make good the insufficiencies of Donatus and Priscian.
The former was the teacher of St. Jerome. He
composed a short work, in the form of questions and
answers, explaining the eight parts of speech, but giving no
rules of gender, or forms of declension and conjugation,
needed for the instruction of those who, unlike the Roman
youth, could not speak the language. This little book went
by the name of the Ars minor. The same grammarian
composed a more extensive work, the third book of which
was called the Barbarismus, after its opening chapter. It
defined the figures of speech [figurae, locutiones), and was
much used through the mediaeval period.
The Ars minor explained in simple fashion the elements
of speech. But the Institutiones grammaticae of Priscian, a
^ Of. Specht, Geschichte des Unterrichtswesens in Deutschland, etc. (Stutt-
gard, 1885), p. 75 and^ passim.
Yet how soon and with what childish prattle youths might begin to speak
and write Latin is touchingly shown by a boy's letter, written from a monastic
school, to his parents. It just asks for various little things, and its superscription
is : " Parentibus suis A. agnus ablactatus pium balatum " : which seems to
mean : " To his parents, A, a weaned lamb, sends a loving bah." This and
other curious little letters are ascribed to one Robertus Metensis (dr. a.d. 900)
Migne 132, col. 533).
CHAP XXXI. SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 151
contemporary of Cassiodonis, offered a mine of knowledge.
Of its eighteen books the first sixteen were devoted to the
parts of speech and their forms, considered under the
variations of gender, declension, and conjugation. The
remaining two treated of constructio or syntax. As early as
the tenth century Priscian was separated into these two
parts, which came to be known as Priscianus major and
minor. The Priscian manuscripts, whose name is legion,
usually present the former. Diffuse in language, confused
in arrangement, and overladen perhaps with its thousands of
examples, it was berated for its labyrinthine qualities even in
the Middle Ages ; yet its sixteen books remained the chief
source of etymological knowledge. Priscianus minor was
less widely used.
The grammarians of the ninth, tenth, and eleventh
centuries followed Donatus and Priscian, making extracts
from their works, or abridgements, and now and then
introducing examples of deviation from the ancient usage.
The last came usually from the Vulgate text of Scripture,
which sometimes departed from the idioms or even word-
forms approved by the old authorities.^ The Ars minor of
Donatus became enveloped in commentaries ; but Priscian
was so formidable that in these early centuries he was
merely glossed, that is, annotated in brief marginal
fashion.
It would be tedious to dweU upon mediaeval
grammatical studies. But the tendencies characterizing
them in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries may be in-
dicated briefly. The substance of the Priscianus major
was followed by mediaeval grammarians. That is to say,
while admitting certain novelties,^ they adhered to its
rules and examples relating to the forms of words, their
declension and conjugation. But the Priscianus minor,
although used, was departed from. In the first place its
^ See Thurot, Histoire des doctrines grammaticales au moyen age ; Notices et
extraits des MSS. vol. 22, part 2, p. 85. For what is said in the preceding and
following pages the writer's obligations are deep to this well-known work of
Thurot, and to Reichling's edition of the Doctrinale of Alexander de VUla-Dei
{Man. Germ, paedagogica, XII., Berlin, 1893). Paetow's Arts Course at Medieval
Universities (University of Illinois, 1910) treats learnedly of these matters.
2 See Thurot, o.c. p. 204 sqq.
152 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
treatment of its subject (s5mtax) was confused and
inadequate. There was, however, a broader reason for seek-
ing rules elsewhere. Mediaeval Latin, in its progress as a
living or quasi-living language, departed from the classical
norms far more in syntax and composition than in word-
forms. The latter continued much the same as in antiquity.
But the popular and so to speak Romance tendencies of
mediaeval Latin brought radical changes of word-order and
style, which worked back necessarily upon the rules of
S5nitax. These had been but hazily stated by the old
writers, and the task of constructing an adequate Latin
syntax remained undone. It was a task of vital importance
for the preservation of the Latin tongue. Word - forms
alone will not preserve the continuity of a language ; it is
essential that their use in speech and writing should be kept
congruous through appropriate principles of syntax. Such
were intelligently formulated by mediaeval grammarians.
The result was not exactly what it would have been had
the task been carried out in the fourth century : yet it has
endured in spite of the attacks, pseudo-attacks indeed, of
the cinquecento ; and the mediaeval treatment of Latin
S3nitax is the basis of the modem treatment. One may
add that syntax or construcfio was taken broadly as
embracing not only the agreements of number and gender,
and the governing ^ of cases, but also the order of words
in a sentence, which had changed so utterly between the
time of Cicero and Thomas Aquinas.
These general statements find illustration in the famous
Doctrinale of Alexander de Villa-Dei, whose author was
born in Normandy in the latter half of the twelfth century.
He studied at Paris, and in course of time was summoned
by the Bishop of Dol to instruct his nepotes in grammar.
While acting as their tutor, he appears to have helped
their memory by setting his rules in rhyme ; and the bishop
asked him to write a Summa of grammar in some such
fashion. Complying, he composed the Doctrinale in the
year 1199, putting his work into leonine or rhyming
hexameter, to make it easier to memorize. Rarely has a
school-book met with such success. It soon came into use
1 Regere, a mediaeval term not used in this sense by Priscian.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 153
in Paris and elsewhere, and for some three hundred years
was the common manual of grammatical teaching through-
out western Europe. It was then attacked and apparently
driven from the field by the so-called Humanists, who,
however, failed to offer anything better in its place, and
plagiarized from the work which they professed to
execrate. 1
The etymological portions of the Doctrinale follow the
teachings of the Priscianus major ; the part devoted to
S3mtax, or constructio, shows traces of the influence of the
Priscianus minor. But Alexander's treatment of syntax is
more systematic and elaborate than Priscian's ; and he did
not hesitate to defer to the Vulgate and other Christian
Latin writings. Thus he made his work conform to con-
temporary usage, which its purpose was to set forth. He
did the same in the section on Prosody, in which he says
that the ancient metricians distinguished a number of feet
no longer used, and he will confine himself to six — the
dactyl, spondee, trochee, anapaest, iambus, and tribrach. ^ In
contradiction to classical usage he condemns elision ; ^ and
in his chapter on accent he throws over the ancient rules :
" Accentus normas legitur posuisse vetustas ;
Non tamen has credo servandas tempore nostro.'*
Alexander was not really an innovator. He followed
previous grammarians in condemning elision, and in what he
says of quantity and accent. In his syntax he endeavoured
to set forth rules conforming to the best Latin usage of
his time, like other mediaeval grammarians before him.
He was indeed vehement in his advocacy of recent and
Christian authors as standards of writing, and he in-
veighed against the scholars of Orleans, who read the
Classics, and would have us sacrifice to the gods and
observe the indecent festivals of Faunus and Jove.^ But
^ See the Einleitung to Reichling's edition of the Doctrinale ahready referred
to; also Thurot, De AlexandH de Villa-Dei dodrinali (Paris, 1850). The chief
mediaeval rival of the Doctrinale was the Graecismus of Eberhard of Bethune,
written a little later. See Paetow, o.c. p. 38.
^ Doctrinale, line 1561 sqq.
^ Doctrinale, 1603 sqq.
* Doctrinale, 2330-2331.
^ See passage in Reichling's Einleitung, p. xxvii.
154 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
others defended the Orleans school, and perhaps still
regarded the Classics as the best arbiters of grammar
and eloquence. There exist thirteenth-century grammars
which follow Priscian more closely than Alexander
does.^ Yet his work represents the dominant tendencies
of his time.
Twelfth and thirteenth century grammarians recom-
mended to their pupils a variety of reading, in which
mediaeval and early Christian compositions held as large
a place as Virgil and Ovid. The Doctrinale advocates no
work more emphatically than Petrus Riga's Aurora, a
versified paraphrase of Scripture. Its author was a chorister
in Rheims, and died in 1209.2 The works of scholastic
philosophers were not cited as frequently as the com-
positions of verse-writers ; yet mediaeval grammarians were
influenced by the language of philosophy, and drew from
its training principles which they applied to their own
science. Grammar could not help becoming dialectical when
the intellectual world was turning to logic and metaphysics.
Commencing in the twelfth century, overmasteringly in the
thirteenth, logic penetrated grammar and compelled an
application of its principles. Often grammarians might
better have looked to linguistic usage than to dialectic ; yet
if grammar was to become a rational science, it had to
systematize itself through principles of logic, and make use
of dialectic in its endeavour to state a reason for its rules.
Those who applied logic to grammar at least endeavoured
to distinguish between the two, not always fruitfully. But
a real difference could not fail to assert itself inasmuch as
logic was in truth of universal application, while mediaeval
grammar never ceased to be the grammar of the Latin
language. Nevertheless its terminology was largely drawn
from logic. ^
So dialectic brought both good and ill, proving itself
helpful in the regulation of sjmtax, but banefuUy affecting
grammarians with the conviction that language was the
^ See e.g. Une Grammaire latine inidite du XIIP Steele, par Ch. Fierville
(Paris, 1886).
2 See Reichling, o.c. Einleitung, p. xix ; Thurot, Not. et extr. xxii. 2, p. 112 sqq.
' See e.g. Thurot, o.c. p. 176 sqq. ; p. 216 sqq.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 155
creature of reason, and must conform to principles of logic.
One likewise notes with curious interest, that, from their
dialectic training, apparently, grammarians first found as
many species of grammar as languages, ^ and then forsook
this idea for the view that, in order to be a science, grammar
must be universal, or, as they phrased it, one, and must
possess principles not applicable specially to Greek or Latin,
but to congruous construction in the abstract ; " de constructione
congrua secundum quod abstrahit'ab omni lingua speciali,"
are the words of the English thirteenth-century philosopher
and grammarian, Robert Kilwardby.^ A like idea affected
Roger Bacon, who composed a Greek grammar,^ which
appears to have been intended as the first part of a work
upon the grammars of the learned languages other than
Latin. It was adapted to afford a grounding in the elements
of Greek : yet it touches matters in a way showing that
the writer had thought deeply on the affinities of languages
and the common principles of grammar. Of this the follow-
ing passage is evidence :
" Therefore, because I wish to treat of the properties of Greek
grammar, it should be known that there are differences in the
Greek language, to be hereafter noted in giving the names of these
dialects {idiomata). And I call them idiomata and not linguas,
because they are not different languages, but different properties
which are peculiarities {idiomata) of the same language.'* Wishing
to set forth Greek grammar, for the use of the Latins, it is
necessary to compare it with Latin grammar, because I commonly
speak Latin myself, seeing that the crowd does not know Greek ;
also because grammar is of one and the same substance in all
languages, although varying in its non-essentials {accidentaliter) ;
also because Latin grammar in a certain special way is derived
from Greek, as Priscian says, and other grammarians." ^
1 Thurot, o.c. pp. 126-127. * Thurot,o.c. p. 127.
^ The Greek Grammar of Roger Bacon, ed. by Nolan and Hirsch (Cambridge,
1902).
* Bacon defines idioma " as the determined peculiarity (proprietas) of lan-
guage, which one gens uses after its custom ; and another gens uses another
idioma of the same language " {Greek Grammar, p. 26). Dialect is the modern
term.
* Greek Grammar, p. 27. Bacon appears to have followed Priscian chiefly.
As to whether he used Byzantine models, or other sources, see the Introduction
to Nolan and Hirsch's edition of the Greek Grammar. These thoughts inspiring
Bacon's Grammar became a veritable metaphysics in the Grammatica speculativa
ascribed to Duns Scotus, see post, Chapter XLIII.
156 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
The dialecticizing of grammar took place in the north,
under influences radiating from Paris, the chief dialectic
centre. These did not deeply affect grammatical studies
in Italy, or in the Midi of Fance, which in some respects
exhibited like intellectual tendencies. Grammar was
zealously studied in Italy, but it did not there become
either speculative or dialectical. To be sure, northern
manuals were used, especially the Doctrinale ; but the study
remained practical, an art rather than a science, and its
chief element, or end, was the ars dictaminis or dictandi.
The grammatical treatises of Italians were treatises upon
this art of epistolary composition and the proper ways of
drawing documents. These works were studied also in
the North, where the ars dictaminis was by no means
neglected.^
Latin grammar, although over-dialecticized in the
North, and in Italy made very practical, remained of
necessity the foundation of classical studies, and of mediaeval
literary effort, in prose and verse. As the basis of liberal
studies, it had no truer home than the cathedral school of
Chartres.^ Contemporary writers picture the manner in
which this study was there made to perform its most liberal
office, under favourable mediaeval conditions, in the first
half of the twelfth century. The time antedates the
Doctrinale, and one notes at once that the Chartrian
masters used the ancient grammatical authorities. This
is shown by the Eptateuchon of Thierry, who was head-
master {scholasticus) and then Chancellor there for a number
of years between 1120 and 1150. As its name implies,
the work was a manual, or rather an encyclopaedia, of the
Seven Arts. Thierry compiled it from the writings of the
" chief doctors on the arts." He transcribed the Ars minor
of Donatus and then portions of his larger work. Having
^ Cf. L. Rockinger, " Die Ars Dictandi in Italien," Sitzungsber. bayerisch.
Akad., 1861, pp. 98-151. For examples of these dictamina, see L. Delisle, " Dicta-
mina Magistri Berardi de Neapoli " (a papal notary equally versed in law and
rhetoric), Notices et extraits des MSS., etc., vol. 27, part 2, p. 87 sqq. ; Ch. V.
Langlois, " Formulaires de lettres," etc., Not. et ext. vol. 32 (2), p. i sqq. ; ibid.
vol. 34 (i), p. I sqq. and p. 305 sqq. and vol. 35 (2), p. 409 sqq.
^ For the history of this school in the eleventh century, see ante, Chapter
XII. III.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 157
commended this author for his conciseness and subtilty,
Thierry next copied out the whole of Priscian. As text-
books for the second branch of the Trivium, he gives
Cicero's De inventione rhetorica libri 2, Rhetoricorum ad
Herennium libri ^, De partitione oratoria dialogus, and con-
cludes with the rhetorical writings of Martianus Capella
and J. Severianus.^
So much for the books. Now for the method of teach-
ing as described by John of Salisbury. He gives the
practice of Bernard of Chartres, Thierry's elder brother,
^who was scholasticus and Chancellor before him, in the
first quarter of the twelfth century. John has been advocat-
ing the study of grammar as the fundamentum atque radix
of those exercises by which virtue and philosophy are
reached ; and he is advising a generous reading of the
Classics by the student, and their constant use by the
professor, to illustrate his teaching.
" This method was followed by Bernard of Chartres, exundissi-
mus modernis temporibus fons Utteranmi in Gallia. By citations
from the authors he showed what was simple and regular ; he
brought into relief the grammatical figures, the rhetorical colours,
the artifices of sophistry, and pointed out how the text in hand
bore upon other studies ; not that he sought to teach everything
in a single session, for he kept in mind the capacity of his audience.
He inculcated correctness and propriety of diction, and a fitting
use of congruous figures. Reahzing that practise strengthens
memory and sharpens faculty, he urged his pupils to imitate
what they had heard, inciting some by admonitions, others by
whipping and penalties. Each pupil recited the next day some-
thing from what he had heard on the preceding. The evening
exercise, called the declinatio, was filled with such an abundance
of grammar that any one, of fair intelligence, by attending it for
a year, would have at his fingers' ends the art of writing and
speaking, and would know the meaning of aU words in common
use. But since no day and no school ought to be vacant of religion,
Bernard would select for study a subject edifying to faith and
morals. The closing part of this declinatio, or rather philo-
sophical recitation, was stamped with piety : the souls of the
1 The Eptateuchon exists in manuscript. I have taken the above from Clerval,
Les Scales de Chartres au moyen age (Chartres, 1895), p. 221 sqq. Thierry appears
to have written a commentary on Cicero's Rhetoric. See Milanges Graux, pp.
41-46.
158 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
dead were commended, a penitential Psalm was recited, and the
Lord's Prayer.
" For those boys who had to write exercises in prose or verse,
he selected the poets and orators, and showed how they should
be imitated in the linking of words and the elegant ending of
passages. If any one sewed another's cloth into his garment, he
was reproved for the theft, but usually was not punished. Yet
Bernard gently pointed out to awkward borrowers that whoever
imitated the ancients (majores) should himself become worthy of
imitation by posterity. He impressed upon his pupils the virtue
of economy, and the values of things and words : he explained
where a meagreness and tenuity of diction was fitting, and where
copiousness or even excess should be allowed, and the advantage
of due measure everywhere. He admonished them to go through
the histories and poems with diligence, and daily to fix passages
in their memory. He advised them, in reading, to avoid the
superfluous, and confine themselves to the works of distinguished
authors. For, he said (quoting from Quintilian) that to follow
out what every contemptible person has said, is irksome and
vainglorious, and destructive of the capacity which should
remain free for better things. To the same effect he cited
Augustine, and remarked that the ancients thought it a virtue
in a grammarian to be ignorant of something. But since in
school exercises nothing is more useful than to practise what
should be accomplished by the art, his scholars wrote daily in
prose and verse, and proved themselves in discussions." ^
This passage indicates with what generous use of the
auctores Bernard expounded grammar and explained the
orators and poets ; how he assigned portions of their works
for memorizing, and with what care he corrected his pupils'
prose and metrical compositions, criticizing their know-
ledge and their taste. He was a man mindful of his
Christian piety toward the dead and living, but caring
greatly for the Classics, and loving study. " The old man
of Chartres {senex Carnotensis) ," says John of Salisbury,
meaning Bernard, " named wisdom's keys in a few lines,
and though I am not taken with the sweetness of the
metre, I approve the sense :
" 'Mens humilis, studium quaerendi, vita quieta,
Scrutinium taciturn, paupertas, terra aliena,
Haec reserare solent multis obscura legendo.' "^
1 Metalogicus, i. cap. xxiv. (Migne, Pat. Lat. 199, col. 853-856).
* Policraticus, vii. 13 (Webb i, p. 145 ; Migne 199, col. 666).
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 159
Bernard, Thierry, and other masters and scholars of
their school, as the advocates of classical education, detested
the men called by John of Salisbury Cornificiani, who
were for shortening the academic course, as one would say
to-day, so that the student might finish it up in two or
three years, and proceed to the business of life. A good
many in the twelfth century adopted this notion, and turned
from the pagan classics, not as impious, but as a waste
of time. Some of the good scholars of Chartres lost heart,
among them William of Conches and a certain Richard,
both teachers of John of Salisbury. They had followed
Bernard's methods ; " but when the time came that so many
men, to the great prejudice of truth, preferred to seem,
rather than be, philosophers and professors of the arts,
engaging to impart the whole of philosophy in less than
three years, or even two, then my masters vanquished by
the clamour of the ignorant crowd, stopped. Since then,
less time has been given to grammar. So it has come
about that those who profess to teach all the arts, both
liberal and mechanical, are ignorant of the first of them,
without which vainly will one try to get the rest." ^
Upon these people who seemed charlatans, and yet may
have represented tendencies of the coming time, Thierry,
Gilbert de la Porree,^ and John of Salisbury poured their
sarcasms. The controversy may have clarified Bernard's
consciousness of the value of classical studies and deepened
his sense of obligation to the ancients, until it drew from
him perhaps the finest of mediaeval utterances touching the
matter : " Bernard of Chartres used to say that we were like
dwarfs seated on the shoulders of giants. If we see more
and further than they, it is not due to our own clear eyes or
tall bodies, but because we are raised on high and upborne
by their gigantic bigness." ^
Echoes of this same controversy — have they ever quite
1 Metalogicus, i. 24 (Migne 199, col. 856). The name seems to have been
taken from Cornificius, a detractor of Virgil in Donatus, Vita Vergilii xvii. 65,
xviii. 76, or possibly from Cornificius, a rhetorician cited by Quintilian and
regarded by some as the author of the treatise Ad Herennium, which advocated
a briefer course of study.
* Of. Clerval, o.c. p. 211 sgq. and p. 227 sqq.
* Metalogicus, iii. 4 (Migne 199, col. 900).
i6o THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
died away ? — are heard in letters of the scholarly Peter of
Blois, who was educated at Paris in the middle of the twelfth
century, became a secretary of Henry Plantagenet and spent
the greater part of his life in England, dying about the year
1200. He writes to a friend :
" You greatly commend your nephew, saying that never have
you found a man of subtler vein ; because, forsooth, skimming
over grammar, and skipping the reading of the classical authors,
he has flown to the trickeries of the logicians, where not in the
books themselves but from abstracts and note-books, he has
learned dialectic. Knowledge of letters cannot rest on such, and
the subtilty you praise may be pernicious. For Seneca says,
nothing is more odious than subtilty when it is only subtilty.
Some people, without the elements of education, would discuss
point and line and superficies, fate, chance and free-will, physics
and matter and the void, the causes of things and the secrets of
nature and the sources of the Nile ! Our tender years used to be
spent in rules of grammar, analogies, barbarisms, solecisms,
tropes, with Donatus, Priscian, and Bede, who would not have
devoted pains to these matters had they supposed that a soUd
basis of knowledge could be got without them. Quintilian,
Caesar, Cicero, urge youths to study grammar. Why condemn
the writings of the ancients ? it is written that in antiquis est
scientia. You rise from the darkness of ignorance to the light of
science only by their diligent study. Jerome glories in having
read Origen ; Horace boasts of reading Homer over and over.
It was much to my profit, when as a httle chap I was studying
how to make verses, that, as my master bade me, I took my
matter not from fables but from truthful histories. And I
profited from the letters of Hildebert of Le Mans, with their
elegance of style and sweet urbanity ; for as a boy I was made
to learn some of them by heart. Besides other books, well
known in the schools, I gained from keeping company with
Trogus Pompeius, Josephus, Suetonius, Hegesippus, Quintus
Curtius, Tacitus, and Livy, all of whom throw into their histories
much that makes for moral edification and the advance of
liberal science. And I read other books, which had nothing to
do with history — very many of them. From all of them we may
pluck sweet flowers, and cultivate ourselves from their urbane
suavity of speech." '
In another letter Peter writes to his bishop of Bath, as
touching the accusation of some " hidden detractor," that he,
1 Petrus Blesensis, Epist. loi (Migne 207, col. 312).
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS i6i
Peter, is but a useless compiler, who fills letters and sermons
with the plunder of the ancients and Holy Writ :
" Let him cease, or he will hear what he does not hke ; for I
am full of cracks, and can hold in nothing, as Terence says. Let
him try his hand at compiling, as he calls it. — But what of it !
Though dogs may bark and pigs may grunt, I shall always pattern
on the writings of the ancients ; with them shall be my occu-
pation ; nor ever, while I am able, shall the sun find me idle." ^
It is evident how broadly Peter of Blois, or John of
Salisbury, or the Chartrians, were read in the Latin Classics.
Peter mentions even Tacitus, a writer not thought to have
been much read in the Middle Ages. We have been looking
at the matter rather in regard to poetry and eloquence —
belles lettres. But one may also note the same broad
reading (among the few who read at all) on the part of those
who sought for the ethical wisdom of the ancients. This is
apparent (perhaps more apparent than real) with Abaelard,
who is ready with a store of antique ethical citations. ^ It
is also borne witness to by the treatise Moralis philosophia
de honesio et utili, placed among the works of Hildebert of
Le Mans,^ but probably from the pen of William of Conches,
grammaticus post Bernardum Carnotensem opulentissimus,
as John of Salisbury calls him.* In some manuscripts it is
entitled Summa moralium philosophorum, quite appropriately.
One might hardly compare it for organic inclusiveness with
the Christian Summa of Thomas Aquinas ; but it may very
well be likened to the more compact Sentences of the
Lombard ^ which were so solidly put together about the
same time. The Lombard drew his Sentences from the
writings of the Church Fathers ; William's work consists of
moral extracts, mainly from Cicero, Seneca, Sallust, Terence,
Horace, Lucan, and Boethius. The first part, De honesto,
reviews Prudentia, Justitia, Fortitudo, and under these a
number of particular virtues in correspondence with which
the extracts are arranged. The De utili considers the
adventitious goods of circumstance and fortune.
1 Epist. 92 (Migne 207, col. 289). These letters are cited by Clerval.
2 See post, Chapter XXXVII., i.
* Migne, Pcd. Lot. 171, col. 1007-1056.
* Metalogicus, i. 5. ^ See post, Chapter XXXVI., i.
VOL. II M
1 62 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
The extracts forming the substance of this work were
intelligently selected and smoothly joined ; and the treatise
was much used by those who studied the antique philosophy
of life. It was drawn upon, for instance, by that truculent
and well-bom Welshman, Giraldus Cambrensis, in his De
instrucUone principum, which the author wrote partly to show
how evilly Henry Plantagenet performed the functions of a
king. This irrepressible claimant of St. David's See had
been long a prickly thorn for Henry's side.^ But he was a
scholar, and quotes from the whole range of the Latin
Classics.
Ill
When a man is not a mere transcriber, but puts something
of himself into the product of his pen, his work will reflect
his personality, and may disclose the various factors of his
spiritual constitution. To discover from the writings of
mediaeval scholars the effect of their classical studies upon
their characters is of greater interest than to trace from their
citations the authors read by them. Such a compilation as
the Summa moralium which has just been noticed, while
plainly disclosing the latter information, tells nothing of the
personality of him who strung the extracts together. Yet
he had read writings which could hardly have failed to
influence him. Cicero and Seneca do not leave their reader
unchanged, especially if he be seeking ethical instruction.
And there was a work known to this particular compiler
which moved men in the Middle Ages. Deep must have
been the effect of that book so widely read and pondered on
and loved, the De consolatione of Boethius with its intimate
consolings, its ways of reasoning and looking upon life, its
setting of the intellectual above the physical, its insistence
that mind rather than body makes the man. Imagine it
brought home to a vigorous struggling personality — ^imagine
Alfred reading and translating it, and adding to it from the
teachings of his own experience. ^ The study of such a book
might form the turning of a mediaeval life ; at least could
1 The works of Giraldus Cambrensis are published in Master of Rolls Series,
21, in eight volumes. The last contains the De instrucUone principum. Giraldus
lived from about 1147 to 1220. ^ Ante, Chapter VIII.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 163
not fail to temper the convulsions of a soul storm-driven
amid unreconcilable spiritual conflicts.
One may look back even to the time of Alfred or
Charlemagne and note suggestions coming from classical
reading. For instance, the antique civilization being
essentially urban, words denoting qualities of disciplined and
polished men had sprung from city life, as contrasted with
rustic rudeness. Thus the word urbanitas passed over into
mediaeval use when the quality itself hardly existed outside
of the transmitted Latin literature. For an Anglo-Saxon or
a Frank to use and even partly comprehend its significance
meant his introduction to a new idea. Alcuin writeslto
Charlemagne that he knows how it rejoices the latter to
meet with zeal for learning and church discipline, and how
pleasing to him is anything which is seasoned with a touch
of wit — urhanitatis sale conditum} And again, in more
curious phrase, he compliments a certain worthy upon his
metrical exposition of the creed, " wherein I have found
gold-spouting whirlpools {aurivomos gurgites) of spiritual
meanings abounding with gems of scholastic wit [scholasticae
urhanitatis)." ^ Though doubtless this " scholastic wit " was
flat enough, it was something for these men to get the notion
of what was witty and entertaining through a word so
vocalized with city life as urbanitas, a word that we have
seen used quite knowingly by the more sophisticated scholar,
Peter of Blois.
Again, it is matter of common observation that a
feeling for nature's loveliness depends somewhat on the
growth of towns. But mediaeval men constantly had the
idea suggested to them by the classic poetry of city-dwelling
poets. Here are some lines by Alcuin or one of his friends,
expressing sentiments which never came to them from the
woods with which they were disagreeably familiar :
" O mea cella, mihi habitatio, dulcis, amata.
Semper in aeternum, o mea cella, vale.
Undique te cingit ramis resonantibus arbos,
Silvula florigeris semper onusta comis." ^
'^ Alcuin, Ep. 80 (Migne loo, col. 260).
* Alcuin, Ep. 113, ad Paulinum patriarcham (Migne 100, col. 341).
* Traube, Poetae Lat. Aevi CaroUni {Mon. Germ.), 1, p. 243. Of. " Versus ja
laude Larii laci," by Paulus Diaconus, ibid. p. 42.
1 64 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
These are little hints of the effect of the antique literature
upon men who still were somewhat rough-hewn. Advancing
a century and a half, the influence of classic study is seen,
as it were, " in the round " in Gerbert,^ It is likewise clear
and full in John of Salisbury, of whom we have spoken, and
shall speak again. ^ For an admirable example, however, of
the subtle working of the antique literature upon character
and temperament, we may look to that scholar-prelate
whose letters the youthful Peter of Blois studied with profit,
Hildebert of Lavardin, Bishop of Le Mans, and Archbishop
of Tours. He shows the effect of the antique not so
strikingly in the knowledge which he possessed or the
particular opinions which he entertained, as in the balance
and temperance of his views, and incidentally in his fine
facility of scholarship.
Hildebert was born at Lavardin, a village near the
mouth of the Loire, about the year 1055. He belonged to
an unimportant but gentle family. Dubious tradition has it
that one of his teachers was Berengar of Tours, and that he
passed some time in the monastery of Cluny, of whose great
abbot, Hugh, he wrote a life. It is more probable that he
studied at Le Mans. But whatever appears to have been
the character of his early environment, Hildebert belongs
essentially to the secular clergy, and never was a monk.
While comparatively young, he was made head of the
cathedral school of Le Mans, and then archdeacon. In the
year 1096, the old bishop of'Le Mans died, and Hildebert,
then about forty years of age, was somewhat quickly chosen
his successor, by the clergy and people of the town, in spite
of the protests of certain of the canons of the cathedral.
The none too happy scholar-bishop found himself at once a
powerless but not negligible element of a violently com-
plicated feudal situation. There was the noble Helias,
Count of Maine, who was holding his domain against Robert
de Bellesme, the latter slackly supported by William Rufus
of England, who claimed the overlordship of the land.
Helias reluctantly acquiesced in Hildebert's election. Not
so Rufus, who never ceased to hate and persecute the man
that had obtained the see which had been in the gift of his
* Ante, Chapter XII. 2 Post, Chapter XXXVII., iii.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 165
father, William the Conqueror. It happened soon after that
Count Helias was taken prisoner by his opponent, and was
delivered over to Rufus at Rouen. But Fulk of Anjou now
thrust himself into this feudal melee, appeared at Le Mans,
entered, and was acknowledged as its lord. He left a garri-
son, and departed before the Red King reached the town.
The latter began its siege, but soon made terms with Fulk, by
which Le Mans was to be given to Rufus, Helias was to
be set free, and many other matters were left quite un-
settled.
Now Rufus entered the town (1098), where Hildebert
nervously received him ; Helias, set free by the King, offered
to become his feudal retainer ; Rufus would have none of
him ; so Helias defied the King, and was permitted to go his
way by that strange man, who held his knightly honour sacred,
but otherwise might commit any atrocity prompted by rage
or greed. It was well for Helias that trouble with the French
King now drew Rufus to the north. The next year, 1099,
Rufus in England heard that the Count had renewed the
war, and captured Le Mans, except the citadel. He hurried
across the channel, rushed through the land, entered Le
Mans, and passed on through it, chasing Helias. But the
war languished, and Rufus returned to Le Mans, or to what
was left of it. Hildebert had cause to tremble. He had
met the King on the latter' s hurried arrival from England
for the war. Rufus had spoken him fair. But now, at Le
Mans, he was accused before the monarch of complicity in
the revolt. Quickly flared the King's anger against the man
whom he had never ceased to detest. He ordered him to
pull down the towers of his cathedral, which rose threaten-
ing and massive over the city's ruins and the citadel of the
King. What could the defenceless bishop do to avert
disgrace and the desolation of his beloved church ? Words
were left him, but they did not prove effectual. Rufus
commanded him to choose between immediate compliance
and going to England, there to submit himself to the judg-
ment of the English bishops. He accepted the latter
alternative, and followed the King, leaving his diocese ruined
and his people dispersed. In England, Rufus dangled him
along between fear and hope, till at last the disheartened
1 66 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
prelate returned to the Continent, having ambiguously
consented to pull down those towers. But instead, he set to
work to repair the devastation of his diocese. The reiterated
mandate of the King was not long in following him, and
this time coupled with an accusation of treason. Hildebert's
state was desperate. His clergy were forbidden to obey
him, his palace was sacked, his own property destroyed.
Such were William's methods of persuasion. Then the
King proposed that the bishop should purge himself by the
ordeal of hot iron. Hildebert, the bishop, the theologian,
the scholar, was almost on the verge of taking up the
challenge, when a letter from Yves, the saintly Bishop of
Chartres, dissuaded him. At this moment, with ruin for his
portion, and no escape, an arrow ended the Red King's life
in the New Forest. It was the year of grace iioo.
Now, what a change ! Henry Beauclerc was from the
first his friend, as William Rufus to the last had been his
enemy. Hitherto Hildebert has appeared weakly endeavour-
ing to elude destruction, and perhaps with no unshaken
loyalty in his bosom toward any cause except his dire
necessities. Henceforth, sailing a calmer sea, he repays
Henry's favour with adherence and admiration. He has no
support to offer Anselm of Canterbury, still struggling with
the English monarchy over investitures ; nor has he one
word of censure for the clever cold-eyed scholar-King who
kept his brother, Robert of Normandy, a prisoner for
twenty-eight years till he died.
Hildebert had still thirty years of life before him ; nor
were they all to be untroubled. Shortly after the Red
King's death, he made a voyage to Rome, to obtain the
papal benediction. To judge from his poems, he was deeply
impressed with the ruins of the ancient city. Returning, he
devoted himself to the affairs of his diocese and to rebuilding
the cathedral and other churches of Le Mans. In 1125, in
spite of his unwillingness, for he was seventy years old, he
was enthroned Archbishop of Tours, where he was to be
worried by disputes with Louis le Gros of France over
investitures. But he acquitted himself with vigour, especially
through his letters. A famous one relates to this struggle
of his closing years :
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 167
" In adversity it is a comfort to hope for happier times.
Long has this hope flattered me ; and as the corn in the blade
cheers the countryman, the expectation of a fair season has
comforted my soul. But now I no longer hope for the clearing
of the cloudy weather, nor see where the storm-driven ship, on
whose deck I sit, may gain the harbour of rest.
" Friends are silent ; silent are the priests of Jesus Christ.
And those also are silent through whose intercession I thought
the king would be reconciled with me. I thought indeed, but in
their silence the king has added to the pain of my wounds.
Yet it was theirs through the canonical institutes to resist the
injury to the Church. Theirs was it, if the matter had demanded
it, to raise a wall before the house of Israel. Yet with the most
serene king there is call for exhortation rather than threat, for
advice rather than command, for instruction rather than the rod.
By these he should have been met, by these reverently taught
not to flesh his arrows in an aged priest, nor make void the
canonical decrees, nor persecute the ashes of a church already
buried, ashes in which I eat the bread of grief, in which I drink
the cup of mourning, from which to be snatched away and escape
is to pass from death to life.
" Yet amid these straits, anger has never triumphed over
me, that I should be willing to force the claim of the Lord, or
wrest his peace with the strong hand and arm of the Church.
Suspect is the peace to which high potentates are brought not by
love, but by force. Easily is it broken, and sometimes the final
state is worse than the first. There is another way by which,
Christ leading, I can better reach it. I wiU cast my thought
upon the Lord, and He will give me the desire of my heart. The
Lord remembered Joseph, forgotten by Pharaoh's chief butler
when prosperity had returned to him ; He remembered David
abandoned by his own son. Perhaps he will remember even me,
and bring the tossing ship to rest on the desired shore. He it is
who looks upon the petition of the meek, and does not spurn
their prayers. He it is in whose hand the hearts of kings are wax.
If I shall have found grace in his eyes, I shall easily obtain the
grace of the king or advantageously lose it. For to offend man
for the sake of God is to win God's grace." 1
Hildebert was a classical scholar, and in his time un-
matched as a writer of Latin prose and verse. Many of his
elegiac poems survive, some of them so antique in sentiment
and so correct in metre as to have been taken for products
1 Ep. ii. 33 (Migne 171, col. 256). For the Latin text of this letter see post,
Chapter XXXII. p. 200.
168 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
of the pagan period. One of the best is an elegy on Rome
obviously inspired by his visit to that city of ruins :
" Par tibi, Roma, nihil, cum sis prope tota ruina."
Its closing lines are interesting :
" Hie superftm formas superi mirantur et ipsi,
Et cupiunt fictis vultibus esse pares.
♦ Non potuit natura deos hoc ore creare
Quo miranda deiim signa creavit homo.
Vultus adest his numinibus, potiusque coluntur
Artificum studio quam deitate sua.
Urbs fehx, si vel dominis urbs ilia careret,
Vel dominis esset turpe carere fide 1 "
Such phrases, such frank admiration for the idols of
pagan Rome, are startling from the pen of a contemporary
of St. Bernard. The spell of the antique lay on Hildebert,
as on others of his time. " The gods themselves marvel at
their own images, and desire to equal their sculptured forms.
Nature was unable to make gods with such visages as man
has created in these wondrous images of the gods. There
is a look (vultus) about these deities, and they are worshipped
for the skill of- the sculptor rather than for their divinity." ^
Hildebert was not only a bishop, he was a Christian ;
but the sense and feeling of ancient Rome had entered
into him. Besides the poem just quoted, he wrote another,
either in Rome or after his return. Christian in thought but
most antique in sympathy and turn of phrase.
" Dum simulacra mihi, dum numina vana placerent,
Militia, populo, moenibus alta fui ;
ruit alta senatus
Gloria, procumbunt templa, theatra jacent."
The antique feeling of these lines is hardly balanced by
the expressed sentiment : " plus Caesare Petrus ! " ^ And
again we hear the echo of the antique in
" Nil artes, nil pura fides, nil gloria linguae.
Nil fons ingenii, nil probitas sine re." ^
^ For the entire poem, which is of interest throughout, see post, Chapter
XXXIII., I.
' For the poem see Haureau, Melanges poetiques d'Hildebert de Lavardin,
p. 64 (Paris, 1882).
^ Haureau, o.c. p. 56.
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 169
Hildebert has also a poem " On his Exile," perhaps
written while in England with the Red King. Quite in
antique style it sings the loss of friends and fields, gardens
and granaries, which the writer possessed while prospera fata
smiled. Then
" J urates superos intra mea vota teneri ! "
— a very antique sentiment. But the Christian faith of the
despoiled and exiled bishop reasserts itself as the poem
closes. 1 Did Hildebert also write the still more palpably
" antique " elegiacs on Hermaphrodite, and other question-
able subjects ? ^ That is hard to say. If, on the other hand,
he wrote the following squib against a woman who seems
to have sent him verses, he shows himself a master of popular
verse as well as classic metre :
" Femina perfida, femina sordida, digna catenis.
" O miserabilis, insatiabilis, insatiata,
Desine scribere, desine mittere, carmina blandia,
Carmina turpia, carmina mollia, vix memoranda,
Nee tibi mittere, nee tibi scribere, disposui me.
" Mens tua vitrea, plumbea, saxea, ferrea, nequam,
Fingere, fallere, prodere, perdere, rem putat aequam." ^
With all his classical leanings, the major part of
Hildebert was Christian. His theological writings which
survive, his zeal against certain riotous heretics, and in
general his letters, leave no doubt of this. It is from the
Christian point of view that he gives his sincerest counsels ;
it is from that that he balances the advantages of an active
or contemplative life, the claims of the Christian vita activa
and vita contemplativa. Yet his classic tastes gave temper-
ance to his Christian views, and often drew him to sheer
scholarly pleasures and to an antique consideration of the
incidents of life.
How sweetly the elements were mixed in him appears
in a famous letter written to William of Champeaux, that
Goliath of realism whom Abaelard discomfited in the Paris
1 Haureau, p. 82. * Ibid. p. 144.
* Migne, Pat. Lat. 171, col. 1428. This volume of Migne also contains the
poems criticized and (some of them) edited by Haureau in the book already
referred to.
I70 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
schools. The unhappy William retreated a little way
across the Seine, and laid the foundations of the abbey of
St. Victor in the years between 1108 and 1113. He sought
to abandon his studies and his lectures, and surrender himself
to the austere salvation of his soul, and yet scarcely with such
irrevocable purpose as would rebuff the temperate advice of
Hildebert's letter proffered with tactful understanding.
" Over thy change of life my soul is glad and exults, that at
length it has come to thee to determine to philosophize. For
thou hadst not the true odour of a philosopher so long as thou
didst not cull beauty of conduct from thy philosophic knowledge.
Now, as honey from the honeycomb, thou hast drawn from that
a worthy rule of living. This is to gather all of thee within
virtue's boundaries, no longer huckstering with nature for thy
life, but attending less to what the flesh is able for, than to what
the spirit wills. This is truly to philosophize ; to live thus is
already to enter the fellowship of those above. Easily shalt
thou come to them if thou dost advance disburdened. The mind
is a burden to itself until it ceases to hope and fear. Because
Diogenes looked for no favour, he feared the power of no one.
What the cynic infidel abhorred, the Christian doctor far more
amply must abhor, since his profession is so much more fruitful
through faith. For such are stumbling-blocks of conduct,
impeding those who move toward virtue.
" But the report comes that you have been persuaded to
abstain from lecturing. Hear me as to this. It is virtue to
furnish the material of virtue. Thy new way of life calls for no
partial sacrifice, but a holocaust. Offer thyself altogether to
the Lord, since so He sacrificed Himself for thee. Gold shines
more when scattered than when locked up. Knowledge also
when distributed takes increase, and unless given forth, scorning
the miserly possessor, it slips away. Therefore do not close the
streams of thy learning." ^
Eventually William followed this, or other like advice.
One sees Hildebert's sympathetic point of view ; he entirely
approves of William's renunciation of the world — a good
bishop of the twelfth century might also have wished to
renounce its troublous honours ! Yes, William has at last
turned to the true and most disburdened way of living. But
this abandonment of worldly ends entails no abandonment
of Christian knowledge or surrender of the cause of Christian
^ Hildebert, Epis. i. i (Migne 171, col. 141).
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 171
learning. Nay, let William resume, and herein give himself
to God's will without reserve.
So the letter presents a temperate and noble view of the
matter, a view as sound in the twentieth century as in the
twelfth. And a like broad consideration Hildebert brings to
a more particular discussion of the two modes of Christian
living, the vita activa and the vita contemplativa, Leah and
Rachel, Martha and Mary. He amply distinguishes these
two ways of serving God from any mode of life with selfish
aims. It happened that a devout monk and friend of Hilde-
bert was made abbot of the monastery of St. Vincent, in the
neighbourhood of Le Mans. The administrative duties of
an abbot might be as pressing as a bishop's, and this good
man deplored his withdrawal from a life of more complete
contemplation. So Hildebert wrote him a long discursive
letter, of which our extracts will give the thread of argument :
" You bewail the peace of contemplation which is snatched
away, and the imposed burden of active responsibilities. You
were sitting with Mary at the feet of the Lord Jesus, when lo, you
were ordered to serve with Martha. You confess that those
dishes which Mary receives, sitting and listening, are more savoury
than those which zealous Martha prepares. In these, indeed,
is the bread of men, in those the bread of angels."
And Hildebert descants upon the raptures of the vita
contemplativa, of which his friend is now bereft.
" The contemplative and the active life, my dearest brother,
you sometimes find in the same person, and sometimes apart.
As the examples of Scripture show us. Jacob was joined to
both Leah and Rachel ; Christ teaches in the fields, anon He
prays on the mountains ; Moses is in the tents of the people,
and again speaks with God upon the heights. So Peter, so
Paul. Again, action alone is found, as in Leah and Martha,
while contemplation gleams in Mary and Rachel. Martha, as
I think, represents the clergy of our time, with whom the press
of business closes the shrine of contemplation, and dries up the
sacrifice of tears.
" No one can speak with the Lord while he has to prattle
with the whole world. Such a prattler am I, and such a priest,
who when I spend the livelong day caring for the herds, have not
a moment for the care of souls. Affairs, the enemies of my
spirit, come upon me ; they claim me for their own, they thieve
172 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
the private hour of prayer, they defraud the services of the
sanctuary, they irritate me with their stings by day and infest
my sleep ; and what I can scarcely speak of without tears, the
creeping furtive memory of disputes follows me miserable to the
altar's sacraments, — all such are even as the vultures which
Abraham drove away from the carcases (Gen. xv. ii).
" Nay more, what untold loss of virtue is entailed by these
occupations of the captive mind ! While under their power we
do not even serve with Martha. She ministered, but to Christ ;
she bustled about, but for Christ. We truly, who hke Martha
bustle about, and, like Martha, minister, neither bustle about for
Christ nor minister to Him. For if in such busthng ministry thou
seekest to win thine own desire, art taken with the gossip of the mob,
or with pandering to carnal pleasures, thou art neither the Martha
whom thou dost counterfeit nor the Mary for whom thou dost sigh.
" In that case, dearest brother, you would have just cause for
grief and tears. But if you do the part of Martha simply, you do
well ; if, like Jacob, you hasten to and fro between Leah and
Rachel, you do better ; if with Mary you sit and listen, you do
best. For action is good, whose pressing instancy, though it kill
contemplation, draws back the brother wandering from Christ.
Yet it is better, sometimes seated, to lay aside administrative
cares, and amid the irksome nights of Leah, draw fresh life from
Rachel's loved embrace. From this intermixture the course to
the celestials becomes more inclusive, for thereby the same soul
now strives for the blessedness of men and anon participates in
that of the angels. But of the zeal single for Mary, why should I
speak ? Is not the Saviour's word enough, ' Mary hath chosen
the best part, which shall not be taken from her.' "
And in closing, Hildebert shows his friend the abbot that
for him the true course is to follow Jacob interchanging
Leah and Rachel ; and then in the watches of his pastoral
duties the celestial vision shall be also his.^
Could any one adjust more fairly this contest, so insistent
throughout the annals of mediaeval piety, between active
duties and heavenly contemplation ? The only solution for
abbot and bishop was to join Leah with Rachel. And how
clearly Hildebert sees the pervasive peril of the active life,
that the prelate be drawn to serve his pleasures and not
Christ. Many souls of prelates had that cast into hell !
In theory Hildebert is clear as day, and altogether
Christian, so far as we have followed the counsels of these
^ Hildebert, Ep. i. 22 (Migne 171, col. 197).
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 173
letters. But in fact the quiet life had for him a temptation,
to which he yielded himself more generously than to any of
the grosser lures of his high prelacy. This temptation, so
alluring and insidious, so fairly masked under the proffer of
learning leading to fuller Christian knowledge, was of course
the all too beloved pagan literature, and the all too humanly
convincing plausibilities of pagan philosophy. Hildebert's
writings evince that kind of classical scholarship which
springs only from great study and great love. His soul
does not appear to have been riven by a consciousness of sin
in this behoof. Sometimes he passes so gently from Chris-
tian to pagan ethics, as to lead one to suspect that he did
not deeply feel the inconsistency between them. Or again,
he seems satisfied with the moral reasonings of paganism,
and sets them forth without a qualm. For there was the
antique pagan side of our good bishop ; and how pagan
thoughts and views of life had become a part of Hildebert's
nature, appears in a most interesting letter written to King
Henry, consoling him upon the loss of his son and the noble
company so gaily sailing from Normandy in that ill-starred
White Ship in the year 1120.
Hildebert begins reminding the King how much more it
is for a monarch to rule himself than others. Hitherto he
has triumphed over fortune, if fortune be anything ; now she
has wounded him with her sharpest dart. Yet that cannot
penetrate the well-guarded mind. It is wisdom not to vaunt
oneself in prosperity, nor be overwhelmed with grief in
adversity. Hildebert then reasons on the excellence of
man's nature and will ; he speaks of the effect of Adam's sin
in loss of grace and entailment of misery on the human race.
He quotes from the Old Testament and from Virgil. Then
he proceeds more specifically with his fortifying arguments.
Their sum is, let the breast of man abound in weapons of
defence and contemn the thrusts of fortune ; there is nothing
over which the triumphant soul may not triumph.
" Unhappy he who lacks this armament ; and most unhappy
he who besides does not know it. Here Democritus found matter
for laughter, Demosthenes (sic) matter for tears. Far be it from
thee that the chance cast of things should affect thee so, and the
loss of wisdom follow the loss of offspring. Thou hast suffered
174 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
on dry land more grievous shipwreck than thy son in the brine,
if fortune's storm has wrested wisdom from the wise."
After a while Hildebert passes on to consider what is
man, and wherein consists his welfare :
" To any one carefuUy considering what man is, nothing will
seem more probable than that he is a divine animal, distinguished
by a certain share of divinity {numinis). By bone and flesh he
smacks of the earth. By reason his affinity to God is shown.
Moses, inspired, certifies that by this prerogative man was created
in the image of God. Whence it also follows for man, that he
should through reason recognize and love his true good. Now
reason teaches that what pertains to virtue is the true good, and
that it is within us. The things we temporally possess are good
only by opinion {opinione, i.e. not ratione), and these are about us.
What is about us is not within our jus but another's {alterius juris
sunt). Chance directs them ; they neither come nor stand under
our arbitrament. For us they are at the lender's will {precaria),
like a slave belonging to another.^ Through such, true felicity is
neither had nor lost. Indeed no one is happy, no one is wretched
by reason of what is another's. It is his own that makes a man's
good or ill, and whatever is not within him is not his own."
Then Hildebert speaks of dignities, of wife and child,
of the fruits of the earth and riches — bona vaga, bona sunt
pennata haec omnia. Men quarrel and struggle about all
these things — ecce vides quanta mundus laboret insania?
No one need point out how much more natural this
reasoning would have been from the lips of Seneca than
from those of an archiepiscopal contemporary of St. Bernard.
One may, however, comment on the patent fact that this
reflection of the antique in Hildebert's ethical consolation
reflects a manner of reasoning rather than an emotional
^ A technical illustration from Roman law.
^ Hildeberti, Ep. ii. 12 (Migne 171, col. 172-177). Compare Ep. i. 17, consoling
a friend on loss of place and dignities. Hildebert's works are in vol. 171 of Migne's
Pat. Lat. A number of his poems are more carefully edited by Haureau in Notices
et extraits des MSS., etc., vol. 28, ii. p. 289 sqq. ; and some of them in vol. 29,
ii. p. 231 sqq. of the same series. The matter is more conveniently given by
Haureau in his Melanges poitiques d'Hildehert de Lavardin. On the man and his
writings see De servillers, Hildebert et, son temps (Paris, 1876) ; Hebert Duperron,
De Venerabilis Hildeberti vita et scriptis (Bajocis, 1855) ; also vol. xi. of Hist,
lit. de la France ; and (best of all) Dieudonne, Hildebert de Lavardin, sa vie, ses
lettres, etc. (Paris, 1898).
CHAP. XXXI SPELL OF THE CLASSICS 175
mood, and in this it is an instance of the general fact that
mediaeval methods of reasoning consciously or unconsciously
followed the antique ; while the emotion, the love and yearn-
ing, of mediaeval religion was more largely the gift of
Christianity.
CHAPTER XXXII
EVOLUTION OF MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE
In this and the next chapter we are concerned with literature,
properly speaking ; and with the effect of the Classics, the
pure literary antique, upon mediaeval literary productions.
The latter are to be viewed as literature ; not considering
their substance, but their form, their composition, style, and
temperamental shading, qualities which show the faculties
and temper of their authors. We are to discover, if we can,
wherein the qualities of mediaeval literature reflect the
Latin Classics, or in any way betray their influence.
It is an affair of dull diligence to learn what Classics
were read by the various mediaeval writers ; and likewise is
it a dull affair to note in mediaeval writings the direct
borrowing from the Classics of fact, opinion, sentiment, or
phrase. Such borrowing was incessant, resorted to as of
course wherever opportunity offered and the knowledge was
at hand. , It would not commonly occur to a mediaeval
writer to state in his own way what he could take from an
ancient author, save in so far as change of medium — from
prose to verse, or from Latin to the vernacular — compelled
him. So the church builders in Rome never thought of
hewing new blocks of stone, or making new columns, when
some ancient palace or temple afforded a quarry. The
details of such spoliations offer little interest in comparison
with the effect of antique architecture upon later styles.
So we should like to discover the effect of the ancient
compositions upon the mediaeval, and observe how far the
faculties and mental processes of classic authors, incorporate
in their writings, were transmitted to mediaeval men, to
become incorporate in theirs.
176
cHAP.xxxii MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 177
Unless you are Virgil or Cicero, you cannot write like
Virgil or Cicero. Writing, real writing, that is to say,
creative self-expressive composition, is the personal product
and closely mirrored reflex of the writer's temperament and
mentality. It gives forth indirectly the influences which
have blended in him, education and environment, his past
and present. His personality makes his style, his untrans-
mittable style. Yet a group of men affected by the same
past, and living at the same time and place, or under
like spiritual influences, may show a like faculty and
taste. Having more in common with one another than
with men of other time, their mental processes, and
therefore their ways of writing, will present more
common qualities. Around and above them, as well
as through their natal and acquired faculties, sweeps
the genius of the language, itself the age-long product
of a like-minded race. Each writer who will write
that language must shape his more personal diction in
harmony with its genius, and not in opposition and
repugnancy.
Obviously the personal elements in classic writings were
no more capable of transmission than the personal qualities
of the writers. Likewise, the genius of the Latin language,
though one might think it fixed in approved compositions,
changed with the spiritual fortune of the Roman people,
and constantly transmitted an altered self and novel tenets
of construction to control the linguistic usages of succeeding
men. None but himself could have written Cicero's letters.
No man of Juvenal's time could have written the Aeneid,
nor any man of the time of Diocletian the histories of
Tacitus. There were, however, common elements in these
compositions, all of them possessing certain qualities which
are associated with classical writing. These may be difficult
to formulate, but they become clear enough in contrast with
the qualities of mediaeval Latin literature. The mediaeval
man did not feel and reason like a contemporary of Virgil
or Cicero ; he had not the same training in Greek literature ;
he did not have the same definitude of conception, did not
care so much that a composition should have limit and the
unity springing from adherence to a single topic ; he did
VOL. II N
178 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
not, in fine, stand on the same level of attainment and
faculty and taste with men of the Augustan time. He had
his own heights and depths, his own temperament and
predilections, his own capacities. Reading the Classics
had not transformed him into Cicero or Seneca, or set
his feet in the Roman Forum. His feet wandered in
the ways of the Middle Ages, and whatever he wrote
in prose or verse, in Latin or in his own vernacular,
was himself and of himself, and but indirectly due to
the antecedent influences which had been transmuted even
. in entering his nature and becoming part of his temper
and faculty.
Any consideration of the knowledge and appreciation of
the Classics in the Middle Ages would be followed naturally
by a consideration of their effect upon mediaeval com-
position ; which in turn forms part of any discussion of the
literary qualities of mediaeval Latin literature. But inas-
much as mediaeval form and diction tend to remove further
and further from classical standards, the whole discussion
may seem a lucus a non lucendo for all the light it throws
upon the effect of the Classics on mediaeval literature. Our
best plan will be to note the beginnings of mediaeval Latinity
in that post -Augustan and largely patristic diction which
had been enriched and reinvigorated with many phrases
from daily speech ; and then to follow the living if
sluggish river as it moves on, receiving increment along
its course, its currents mottled with the silt of mediaeval
Italy, France, Germany. We shall suppose this flood to
divide in rivers of Latin prose and verse ; and we may
follow them, and see where they overflow their channels,
carrying antique flotsam into the ample marshes of vernacular
poetry.
There has always been a difference in diction between
speech and literature. At Rome, Cicero and Caesar, and of
course the poets, did not, in writing, use quite the language
of the people. All the words of daily speech were not
taken into the literary or classical vocabulary, which had
often quite other words of its own. Moreover the writers,
in forming their prose and verse and constructing their
compositions, were affected deeply by their study of Greek
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 179
literature. 1 If Caesar, Cicero, Virgil, and their friends spoke
differently from the Roman shopkeepers, there was a still
greater difference between their writings and the parlance of
the town.
No one need be told that it was the spoken, and not
the classical Latin, which in Italy, Spain, Provence, and
Northern France developed into Italian, Spanish, Provengal,
and French. On the other hand, the descent of written
mediaeval Latin from the classical diction or the popular
speech, or both, is not so clear, or at least not so simple.
It cannot be said that mediaeval Latin came straight from
the classical ; and manifestly it cannot have sprung from
the popular spoken Latin, like the Romance tongues,
without other influence or admixture ; because then, instead
of remaining Latin, it would have become Romance ; which
it did not. Evidently mediaeval Latin, the literary and to
some extent the spoken medium of educated men in the
Middle Ages, must have carried classic strains, or have kept
itself Latin by the study of Latin grammar and a conscious
adherence to a veritable, if not classical, Latin diction.
The mediaeval reading of the Classics, and the earnest and
constant study of Latin grammar spoken of in the previous
chapter, were the chief means by which mediaeval Latin
maintained its Latinity. Nevertheless, while it kept the
word forms and inflections of classical Latin and most of
the classical vocabulary, it also drew an indefinite supply
of words from the spoken Latin of the late imperial or
patristic period.
In order to understand the genesis and qualities of
mediaeval Latin, one must bear in mind (as with most things
mediaeval) that its immediate antecedents lie in the transi-
tional fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries, and not in the
classical period.^ Those centuries went far toward declassi-
^ It is well known that the great Latin prose, in spite of variances of stylistic
intent and faculty among the individual writers, was an artistic creation, formed
under the influence of Greek models. Cicero is the supreme example of this, and
he is also the greatest of all Latin prose writers. After his time some great writers
{e.g. Tacitus, Quintilian) preserved a like tradition ; others {e.g. Seneca) paid
less attention to it. And likewise on through the patristic period, and the Middle
Ages too, some men endeavoured to preserve a classic style, while others wrote
more naturally.
* Even as it is necessary, in order to appreciate some of the methods of the
i8o THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
cizing Latin prose, by departing from the balanced structure
of the classic sentences and introducing words from the
spoken tongue. The style became less correct, freer, and
better suited to the expression of the novel thoughts and
interests coming with Christianity, The change is seen in
the works of the men to whom it was largely due, TertuUian,
Jerome, and other great patristic writers.^ Such men knew
the Classics well, and regarded them as literary models, and
yet wrote differently. For a new spirit was upon them and
new necessities of expression, and they lived when, even
outside of Christian circles, the classic forms of style were
loosening with the falling away of the strenuous intellectual
temper, the poise, the self-reliance and the self-control
distinguishing the classical epoch.
The stylistic genius of Augustine and Jerome was not
the genius of the formative beginnings of the Romance
tongues, with, for instance, its inability to rely on the close
logic of the case ending, and its need to help the meaning
by the more explicit preposition. Yet the spirit of these
two great men was turning that way. They were not
classic writers, but students of the Classics, who assisted
their own genius by the study of what no longer was
themselves. So in the following centuries the most careful
Latin writers are students of the Classics, and do not study
Jerome and Augustine for style. Yet their writings carry
out the tendencies beginning (or rather not beginning) with
these two.
It was not in diction alone that the Fathers were the
forerunners of mediaeval writers. Classic Latin authors, both
from themselves and through their study of Greek literature,
had the sense and faculty of form. Their works maintain a
clear sequence of thought, along with strict pertinency to
the main topic, or adherence to the central current of the
narrative, avoiding digression and refraining from excessive
amplification. The classic writer did not lose himself in his
subject, or wander with it wherever it might lead him. But
Latin classical poetry, to realize that their immediate antecedents lay in Greek
Alexandrian literature rather than in the older Greek Classics.
^ See Taylor, Classical Heritage, chapter viii. ; and generally L. Traube,
Einleitung in die lateinische Philologie des Mittelalters (Munich, 191 1).
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE i8i
in patristic writings the subject is apt to dominate the man,
draw him after its own necessities, or by its casual sugges-
tions cause him to digress. The Fathers in their polemic or
expository works became prolix and circumstantial, intent,
like a lawyer with a brief, on proving every point and
leaving no loophole to the adversary. In their works
literary unity and strict sequence of argument may be cast
to the winds. Above all, as it seems to us, and as it would
have seemed to Caesar or Cicero or Tacitus, allegorical
interpretation carries them at its own errant and fantastic
will into footless mazes.
Yet whoever will understand and appreciate the writings
of the Fathers and of the mediaeval generations after them,
should beware of inelastic notions. The question of unity
hangs on what the writer deems the veritable topic of his
work, and that may be the universal course of the providence
of God, which was the subject of Augustine's Civitas Dei.
Indeed, the infinite relationship of any Christian topic was
likely to break through academic limits of literary unity.
Similarly the proper sequence of thought depends on what
constitutes the true connection between one matter and
another ; it must follow what with the writer are the veritable
relationships of his topics. If the visible facts of a man's
environment'and the narratives of history are to him primarily
neither actual facts nor literal narratives, but symbols and
allegories of spiritual things, then the true sequence of thought
for him is from symbol to symbol and from allegory to
allegory. He is justified in ignoring the apparent connection
of visible facts and the logic of the literal story, and in sur-
rendering himself to that sequence of thought which follows
what is for him the veritable significance of the matter.
Yet here we must apply another standard besides that
of the writer's conception of his subject's significance. He
should be wise, and not foolish. Other men and later ages
will judge him according to their own best wisdom. And
with respect to the writings of the Fathers viewed as
literature, the modern critic cannot fail to see them entering
upon that course of prolixity which in mediaeval writings will
develop into the endless ; looking forward, he will see their
errant habits resolving into the mediaeval lack of determined
1 82 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
topic, and their symbolically driven sequences of thought
turning into the most ridiculous topical transitions, as the
less cogent faculties of later men permit themselves to be
suggested anywhither.
The Fathers developed their distinguishing qualities of
style and language under the demands of the topics absorbing
them, and the influence of modes of feeling coming with
Christianity. They were compelling an established language
to express novel matter. In the centuries after them,
further changes were to come through the linguistic
tendencies moulding the evolution of the Romance tongues,
through the counter influence of the study of grammar and
rhetoric, and also through the ignorance and intellectual
limitations of the writers. But as with the Latin of the
Fathers, so with the Latin of the Middle Ages, the change
of style and language was intimately and spiritually
dependent upon the minds and temperaments of the writers
and the qualities of the subjects for which they were seeking
an expression, A profound influence in the evolution of
mediaeval Latin was the continual endeavour of the mediaeval
genius to express the thoughts and feelings through which it
was becoming itself. With impressive adequacy and power
the Christian writers of the Middle Ages moulded their
inherited and acquired Latin tongue to utter the varied
matters which moved their minds and lifted up their hearts.
We marvel to see a language which once had told the
stately tale of Rome, here lowered to fantastic incident and
dull stupidity, then with almost gospel simplicity telling the
moving story of some saintly life ; again sonorously uttering
thoughts to lift men from the earth and denunciations
crushing them to hell ; quivering with hope and fear and
love, and chanting the last verities of the human soul.
As to the evolution of various styles of written Latin
from the close of the patristic period on through the
following centuries, one may premise the remark that there
would commonly be two opposite influences upon the writer ;
that of the genius of his native tongue, and that of his
education in Latinity. If he lived in a land where Teutonic
speech had never given way to the spoken Latin of the
Empire, his native tongue would be so different from the
cHAP.xxxn MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 183
Latin which he learned at school, that while it might impede,
it could hardly draw to its own genius the learned language.
But in Romance countries there was no such absolute
difference between the vernacular and the Latin, and the
analytic genius of the growing Romance dialects did not fail
to affect the latter. Accordingly in France, for example, the
spoken Latin dialect, or one may say the genius that was
forming the old French dialects to what they were to be,
tends to break up the ancient periods, to introduce the
auxiliary verb in the place of elaborate inflections, and rely
on prepositions instead of case endings, which were dis-
appearing and whose force was ceasing to be felt. One
result was to simplify the order of words in a sentence ;
for it was not possible to move a noun with its accompanying
preposition wherever it had been feasible to place a noun
whose relation to the rest of the sentence was felt from
its case ending. Gregory of Tours is the famous example
of these tendencies, with his Historia francorum, an ideal
forerunner of Froissart. He became Bishop of Tours in
the year 573. In his writings he followed the instincts
of the inchoate Romance tongues. He acknowledges and
perhaps overstates his ignorance of Latin grammar and
the rules of composition. Such ignorance was destined
to become still blanker ; and ignorance in itself was a
disintegrating influence upon written Latin, and also
gave freer play to the gathering tendencies of Romance
speech.
Evidently, had all these influences worked unchecked,
they would have obliterated Latinity from mediaeval Latin.
Grammatical and rhetorical education countered them
effectively, and the mighty genius of the ancient language
endured in the extant masterpieces. Nevertheless, the spirit
of classical Latinity was never again to be a spontaneous
creative power. The most that men thenceforth could do
was to study and endeavour to imitate the forms in which
it had embodied its living self.
In brief, some of the chief influences upon the writing
of Latin in the Middle Ages were : the classical genius
dead, leaving only its works for imitation ; the school
education in Latin grammar and rhetoric ; endeavour to
1 84 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
follow classic models and write correctly ; inability to
do so from lack of capacity and knowledge ; conscious
disregard of classicism ; the spirit of the Teutonic tongues
clogging Latinity, and that of the Romance tongues deflect-
ing it from classical constructions ; and finally, the plastic
faculties of advancing Christian mediaeval civilization
educing power from confusion, and creating modes of
language suited to express the thoughts and feelings of
mediaeval men.
The life, that is to say the living development, of
mediaeval Latin prose, was to lie in the capacity of suc-
cessive generations of educated men to maintain a sufficient
grammatical correctness, while at the same time writing
Latin, not classically, but in accordance with the necessities
and spirit of their times. There resulted an enormous
literature which was not dead, nor altogether living, and
throughout was lacking in the spontaneity of writings in a
mother tongue ; for Latin was not the speech of hearth and
home, nor everywhere the tongue of the market-place and
camp. But it was the language of mediaeval education and
acquired culture ; it was also the language of the universal
church, and, above all other tongues, expressed the thoughts
by which men were saved or damned. More profoundly than
any vernacular mediaeval literature, the Latin literature of
the Middle Ages expressed the mediaeval mind. It thundered
with the authority that held the keys of heaven ; it was
resonant with feeling, and through long centuries gave voice
to emotions, shattering, terror-stricken, convulsively loving.
When, say with the close of the eleventh century, the
mediaeval peoples had absorbed with power the teachings of
patristic Christianity, and had undergone some centuries of
Latin schooling, and when under these two chief influences
certain distinctive and homogeneous ways of thinking,
feeling, and looking upon life, had been reached ; when,
in fine, the Middle Ages had become themselves and had
evolved a genius that could create, — then and from that time
appears the adaptability and power of mediaeval Latin to
serve the ends of intellectual effort and the expression of
emotion.
To estimate the literary qualities of classical Latin is a
cBAP.xxxii MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 185
simpler task than to judge the Latinity and style of the
Latin literature of the Middle Ages. Classic Latin prose
has a common likeness. In general one feels that what
Cicero and Caesar would have rejected, Tacitus and
Ouintilian would not have admitted. The syntax of these
vsniters shows still greater uniformity. No such common
likeness, or avoidance of stylistic aberration and gram-
matical solecism, obtains in mediaeval prose or verse. The
one and the other include many kinds of Latin, and vary from
century to century, diversified in idiom and deflected from
linguistic uniformity by influences of race and native speech,
of ignorance and knowledge. He who would appreciate
mediaeval Latin will be diffident of academic standards, and
mistrust his classical predilections lest he see aberration
and barbarism where he might discover the evolution of
new constructions and novel styles ; lest he bestow
encomium upon clever imitations of classical models, and
withhold it from more living creations of the mediaeval
spirit.^
The following pages do not offer themselves even as a
slight sketch of mediaeval Latin literature. Their purpose
is to indicate the stages of development of the prose and the
phases of evolution of the verse ; and to illustrate the way in
which antique themes and antique knowledge passed into
vernacular poetry. Classical standards will supply us less
with a point of view than with a point of departure.
Nothing more need be said of the Latin of the Church
Fathers and Gregory of Tours. But one must refer to the
Carolingian period, in order to appreciate the Latin styles of
the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
' A palpable difficulty in judging mediaeval Latin literature is its biilk. The
extant Latin classics could be tucked away in a small corner of it. Every well-
equipped student of the Classics has probably read them all. One mortal life
would hardly suffice to read a moderate part of mediaeval Latin. And, finally,
while there are histories of the classic literature in every modem tongue, there
can scarcely be said to exist a general work upon mediaeval writings regarded as
literature. Ebert's Allgemeine Geschichte der Litter atur des Mittelalters ends
with the tenth century. The author died. There has also appeared the first
part (to the middle of the tenth century) of M. Manitius' Geschichte der lateinischen
Literatur des Mittelalters (Munich, 1911). It will be a work of value. Within
the scope of its piurpose. Sir J. E. Sandys' History of Classical Scholarship is very
good. Grober's Vbersicht iiber die lateinische Litteratur von des 6. Jahrhunderts bis
^SSo may be referred to.
1 86 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND eookvi
The revival of education and classical scholarship under
the strong rule and fostering care of the greatest of mediaeval
monarchs has not always been rightly judged. The vision
of that prodigious personality ruling, christianizing, striving
to civilize masses of barbarians and barbarized descendants
of Romans and provincials ; at the same time with eager
interest endeavouring to revive the culture of the past, and
press it into the service of the Christian faith ; the striking
success of his endeavours, men of learning coming from
Ireland, England, Spain, and Italy, creating a peripatetic
centre of knowledge at the imperial court, and establish-
ing schools in many a monastery and episcopal residence
— all this has never failed to arouse enthusiasm for the
great achievement, and has veiled the creative deadness of
it all, a deadness which in some provinces of intellectual
endeavour was quite veritably moribund, while in others it
betokened the necessary preparation for creative epochs to
come
1
Carolingian scholarship was directed to the mastery of
Latin. Grammar was taught, and the rules of composition.
Then the scholars were bidden, or bade themselves, do
likewise. So they wrote verse or prose according to their
school lessons. They might write correctly ; but they had
no style of their own. This was hopelessly true as to their
metrical verses ; ^ it was only somewhat less tangibly true
of their prose. The " classic " of the period, in the eyes
of modem classical scholars and also in the opinion of
the mediaeval centuries, is Einhard's Life of Charlemagne.
Numberless encomiums have been passed on it, and justly
too. It was an excellent imitation of Suetonius's Life of
Aftgustus ; and the writer had made a careful study of
Caesar and Livy.^ There is no need to quote from a writing
so accessible and well known. Yet one remark may be
added to what others have said : if Einhard's composition
was an excellent copy of classical Latin, it was nothing else;
it has no stylistic individuality.*
1 Ante, Chapter X. • ^ p^^t^ Chapter XXXIII., i.
^ See Sandys, History of Classical Scholarship, i. 463-464.
* There was no attempt at classicism in the narrative in which he recounted
the Translation of the relics of the martyrs Marcellinus and Peter from Rome to
his own new monastery at Seligenstadt (Migne 104, col. 537-594). It was an
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 187
Turning from this famous biography, we wiU illustrate
our point by quoting from the letters of him who stands as
the type of the Carolingian revival, the Anglo-Saxon Alcuin.
All praise to this noble educational coadjutor of Charlemagne;
his learning was conscientious, his work was important, his
character was lovable. His affectionate nature speaks in a
letter to his former brethren at York, where his home had
been before he entered Charlemagne's service. Here is a
sentence :
" O omnium dilectissimi patres et fratres, memores mei estote ;
ego vaster ero, sive in vita, sive in morte. Et forte miserebitur mei
Deus, ut cujus infantiam aluistis, ejus senectutem sepeliatis." ^
It were invidious to find fault with this Latin, in which
the homesick man expresses his hope of sepulture in his old
home. Note also the balance of the following, written to a
sick friend :
" Gratias agamus Deo Jesu, vulneranti et medenti, flageUanti
et consolanti. Dolor corporis salus est animae, et infirmitas
temporalis, sanitas perpetua. Libenter accipiamus, patienter
feramus voluntatem Salvatoris nostri." ^
This too is excellent, in language as in sentiment. So
is another, and last, sentence from our author, in a letter
congratulating Charlemagne on his final subjugation of the
Huns, through which the survivors were brought to a
knowledge of the truth :
" Qualis erit tibi gloria, O beatissime rex, in die aetemae
retributionis, quando hi omnes qui per tuam sollicitudinem ab
adolatriae cultura ad cognoscendum venim Deum conversi sunt,
te ante tribunal Domini nostri Jesu Christi in beata sorte stantem
sequentur ! " ^
Again, the only trouble is stylelessness. In fine, this is the
quality characterizing Carolingian prose, of which a last ex-
ample may be taken from the Spaniard Theodulphus, Bishop
entertaining story of a pious theft, and one may be sure that he wrote it more
easily, and in a style more natural to himself than that shown in his consciously
imitative masterpiece.
1 Ep. vi. (Migne loo, col. 146). * Ep. xxxii. (Migne 100, col. 187).
' Ep. xxxiii. (Migne 100, col. 187).
1 88 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
of Orleans, " an accomplished Latin poet/' and an educator
yielding in importance to Alcuin alone. The sentence is
from an official admonition to the clergy, warning them to
attach more value to salvation than to lucre :
" Admonendi sunt qui negotiis ac mercationibus rerum
invigilant, ut non plus terrenam quam viam cupiant sempitemam.
Nam qui plus de rebus terrenis quam de animae suae salute
cogitat, valde a via veritatis aberrat." ^
Evidently there was a good knowledge of Latin among
these Carolingians, who laboured for the revival of education
and the preservation of the Classics. The nadir of classical
learning falls in the succeeding period of break-up, confusion,
and dawning re-adjustment. In the century or two following
the year 850, the writers were too unskilled in Latin and
often too cumbered by it, to manifest in their writings that
unhampered and distinctive reflex of a personality which we
term style. A rare exception would appear in such a potent
scholar as Gerbert, who mastered whatever he learned, and
made it part of his own faculties and temperament. His
letters, consequently, have an individual style, however good
or bad we may be disposed to deem it.^
Accordingly, until after the millennial year, Latin prose
shows little beyond a clumsy heaviness resulting from the
writer's insufficient mastery of his medium ; and there are
many instances of barbarism and corruption of the tongue
without any compensating positive qualities. A dreadful
example is afforded by the Chronicon of Benedictus, a monk
of St. Andrews in Monte Soracte, who lived in the latter
part of the tenth century. He relates, as history, the fable
of Charlemagne's journey to the Holy Land ; and his own
eyes may have witnessed the atrocious times of John XII.,
of whom he speaks as follows :
" Inter haec non multum tempus Agapitus papa decessit (an.
956) . Octabianus in sede sanctissima susceptus est, et vocatus est
Johannes duodecimi pape. Factus est tam lubricus sui corporis,
et tam audaces, quantum nunc in gentilis populo solebat fieri.
Habebat consuetudinem sepius venandi non quasi apostolicus
1 Capitula ad Presbyteros (Migne 105, col. 202).
^ See ante, Chapter XII.
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 189
sed quasi homo ferns. Erat enim cogitio ejus vanum ; diligebat
collectio feminarum, odibiles aecclesiarum, amabilis juvenis
ferocitantes. Tanta denique libidine sui corporis exarsit, quanta
nunc (non ?) possumus enarrare." ^
No need to draw further from this writing, which is
characterized throughout by crass ignorance of grammar and
all else pertaining to Latin. It has no individual qualities ;
it has no style. Leaving this example of illiteracy, let us
turn to a man of more knowledge, Odo, one of the greatest
of the abbots of Cluny, who died in the year 943. He left
lengthy writings, one of them a bulky epitome of the famous
M or alia of Gregory the Great. ^ More original were his
three dull books of Collationes, or moral comments upon
the Scriptures. They open with a heavy note which their
author might have drawn from the dark temperament of that
great pope whom he so deeply admired ; but the language
has a leaden quality which is not Gregory's, but Odo's.
" Auctor igitur et judex hominum Deus, licet ab ilia felicitate
paradisi genus nostrum juste repulerit, suae tamen bonitatis
memor, ne totus reus homo quod meretur incurrat, hujus pere-
grinationis molestias multis beneficiis demulcet."
And, again, a little further on :
" Omnis vero ejusdem Scripturae intentio est, ut nos ab hujus
vitae pravitatibus compescat. Nam idcirco terribilibus suis
sententiis cor nostrum, quasi quibusdam stimulis pungit, ut homo
terrore pulsatus expavescat, et divina judicia quae aut voluptate
carnis aut terrena sollicitudine discissus oblivisci facile solet, ad
memoriam reducat." ^
^ Chronicon, cap. 35 (Migne 139, col. 46). The sense is easy to follow, but
the impossible constructions render an exact translation quite impossible. It is
doubtful whether this Benedictus was an Italian. The Italian writing of this
period, like that of Liutprand, is easier than among more painful students north
of the Alps. But otherwise its qualities are rarely more pronounced. Ease is
shown, however, in the Chronicon Venetum of John the Deacon (d. cir. 1008).
See ante, Chapter XIII., iii.
* Migne 133. This work fills four himdred columns in Migne. On Odo see
ante, Chapter XII., 11.
' Odo of Cluny, Collationes, lib. i. cap. i. (Migne 133, col. 519 and 520).
"Therefore God, Creator and Judge of mankind, although He have justly driven
our race from that felicity of Paradise, yet mindful of His goodness, lest man all
guilt should incur what he deserves, softens the sorrows of this pilgrimage with
many benefits. . . . Indeed the whole purpose of that same Scripture is to keep
us from the depravities of this life. For to that end with its dreadful utterances,
as with so many goads, it pricks o\ur heart, that man struck by fear may shudder,
ipo THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
One feels the dull heaviness of this. Odo, like many of
his contemporaries, knew enough of Latin grammar, and had
read some of the Classics. But he had not mastered what
he knew, and his knowledge was not converted into power.
The tenth century was still painfully learning the lessons
of its Christian and classical heritage. A similar lack of
personal facility may be observed in Ruotger's biography of
Bruno, the worthy brother of the great emperor Otto I., and
Archbishop of Cologne. Bruno died in 965, and Ruotger,
who had been his companion, wrote his Life without delay.
It has not the didactic ponderousness of Odo's writing, but
its language is clumsy. The following passage is of interest
as showing Bruno's education and the kind of learned man
it made him.
" Deinde ubi prima grammaticae artis rudimenta percepit,
sicut ab ipso in Dei omnipotentis gloriam hoc saepius niminante
didicimus, Prudentium poetam tradente magistro legere coepit.
Qui sicut est et fide intentioneque catholicus, et eloquentia
veritateque praecipuus, et metrorum librorumque varietate
elegantissimus, tanta mox dulcedine palate cordis ejus com-
placuit, ut jam non tantum exteriorum verborum scientiam,
varum intimi meduUam sensus, et nectar ut ita dicam liquid-
issimum, majori quam dici possit aviditate hauriret. Postea
nullum penitus erat studiorum Hberalium genus in omni Graeca
vel Latina eloquentia, quod ingenii sui vivacitatem aufugeret.
Nee vero, ut solet, aut divitiarum afiiuentia, aut turbanim
circumstrepentium assiduitas, aut ullum aliunde subrepens
fastidium ab hoc nobili otio animum ejus unquam avertit. . . .
Saepe inter Graecorum et Latinorum doctissimos de philosophiae
subUmitate aut de cujuslibet in ilia fiorentis discipHnae subtiHtate
disputantes doctus interpres medius ipse consedit, et disputan-
tibus ad plausum omnium, quo nihil minus amaverat, satisfecit." ^
The gradual improvement in the writing of Latin in the
and may recall to memory the divine judgments which he is wont so easily to
forget, distracted by lust of the flesh and the solicitudes of earth."
1 Ruotgerus, Vita Brunonis, cap. 4 and 6 ; Pertz, Mon. Germ. Script, iv. p. 254,
and Migne 134, col. 944 and 946. A translation of this passage is given ante
Vol. I., p. 311. See ibid., p. 315, for the scholarship and writings of Hermannus
Contractus, an eleventh-century German. Ruotger's clumsy Latin is outdone by
the linguistic involutions of the Life of Wenceslaus, the martyr duke of Bohemia,
written toward the close of the tenth century by Gumpoldus, Bishop of Mantua,
who seems to have cultivated classical rhetoric most disastrously (Pertz, Mon.
Germ. Script, iv. p. 211, and in Migne 135, col. 923 sqq.).
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 191
Middle Ages, and the evolution of distinctive mediaeval
styles, did not result from a larger acquaintance with the
Classics, or a better knowledge of grammar and school
rhetoric. The range of classical reading might extend, or
from time to time contract, and Donatus and Priscian were
used in the ninth century as well as in the twelfth. It is
true that the study of grammar became more intelligent in
the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and its teachers deferred
less absolutely to the old rules and illustrations. They
recognized Christian standards of diction : first of all the
Vulgate ; next, early Christian poets like Prudentius ; and
then gradually the mediaeval versifiers who wrote and won
approval in the twelfth century. Thus grammar sought to
follow current usage. ^ This endeavour culminated at the
close of the twelfth century in the Dodrinale of Alexander
of Villa Dei.^ Before this, much of the best mediaeval
Latin prose and verse had been written, and the period most
devoted to the Classics had come and was already waning.
That period was this same twelfth century. During its
earlier half, Latinity gained doubtless from such improvement
in the courses of the Trivium as took place at Chartres, for
example, an improvement connected with the intellectual
growth of the time. But the increase in the knowledge of
Latin was mainly such as a mature man may realize within
^himself, if he has kept up his Latin reading, however little he
may seem to have added to his knowledge since leaving his
Alma Mater.
So the development of mediaeval Latin prose (and also
verse) advanced with the maturing of mediaeval civilization.
That which was at the same time a living factor in this
growth and a result of it, was the more organic appropriation
of the classical and Christian heritages of culture and religion.
As intellectuali^^faculties strengthened, and men drew power
from the past, they gained facility in moulding their Latin
^ From Thurot, Notices et extraits, etc., 22 (2), p. 87, and p. 341 sqq., one
may see that the principles of construction stated by mediaeval grammarians
followed the usage of mediaeval writers in adopting a simpler or more natural
order than that of classical prose. An extract, for example, from an eleventh-
century MSS. indicates the simple order which this grammarian author approved
e.g. " Johannes hodie venit de civitate ; Petrus, quem Arnulfus genuit et nutrivit,
intellexit multa " (Thurot, p. 87).
2 Ante, Chapter XXXI., 11.
192 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
to their purposes. Writings begin to reflect the personalities
of the writers ; the diction ceases to be that of clumsy or
clever school compositions, and presents an evolution of
tangible mediaeval styles. Henceforth, although a man be
an eager student of the Classics, like John of Salisbury
for example, and try to imitate their excellences, he
will still write mediaeval Latin, and with a personal
style if he be a strong personality. The classical models
no longer trammel, but assist him to be more effectively
himself.
If mediaeval civilization is to be regarded as that which
the peoples of western Europe attained under the two
universal influences of Christianity and antique culture,
then nothing more mediaeval will be seen than mediaeval
Latin. To make it, the antique Latin had been modified
and reinspired and loosed by the Christian energies of the
Fathers ; and had then passed on to peoples who never
had been, or no longer were, antique. They barbarized the
language down to the rudeness of their faculties. As they
themselves advanced, they brought up Latin with them, as
it were, from the depths of the ninth and tenth centuries,
but a Latin which in the crude natures of these men had
been stripped of classical quality ; a Latin barbarous and
naked, and ready to be clothed upon with novel qualities
which should make it a new creature. Throughout all this
process, while Latin was sinking and re-emerging, it was
worked upon and inspired by the spirit of the uses to which
it was predominantly applied, which were those of the
Roman Catholic Church and of the intimacies of the
Christian soul, pressing to expression in the learned tongue
which they were transforming.
In considering the Latin writings of the Middle Ages
one should bear in mind the differences between Italy and
the North with respect to the ancient language. These
were important through the earlier Middle Ages, when
modes of diction sufficiently characteristic to be called
styles, were forming. The men of Latin-sodden Italy
might have a fluent Latin when those of the North still
had theirs to learn. Thus there were Italians in the
eleventh century who wrote quite a distinctive Latin
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 193
prose. 1 Among them were St. Peter Damiani, and St. Anselm
of Aosta, Bee, and Canterbury.
The former died full of virtue in the year 1072. We
have elsewhere observed his character and followed his
career.^ He was, to his great anxiety, a classical scholar,
who had earned large sums as a teacher of rhetoric before
natural inclination and fears for his soul drove him to an
ascetic life. He was a master of the Latin which he used.
His style is intense, eloquent, personal to himself as well
as suited to his matter, and reflects his ardent character
and keen perceptions. The following is a rhetorical yet
beautiful description of a " last leaf," taken from one of
his compositions in praise of the hermit way of salvation.
" Videamus in arbore folium sub ipsis pruinis hiemalibus
lapsabundum, et consumpto autumnalis clementiae virore, jam-
jam pene casunim, ita ut vix ramusculo, cui dependet, inhaereat,
sed apertissima levis ruinae signa praetendat : inhorrescunt
flabra, venti furentes hie inde concutiunt, bnimalis horror crassi
aeris rigore densatur : atque, ut magis stupeas, defluentibus
reliquis undique foliis terra stemitur, et depositis comis arbor sue
decore nudatur ; cum illud solum nullo manente permaneat,
et velut cohaeredum superstes in fraternae possessionis jura
succedat. Quid autem intelligendum in hujus rei consideratione
relinquitur, nisi quia nee arboris folium potest cadere, nisi
divinum praesumat imperium ? " ^
^ So likewise in regard to verse, the perfected two-syllable rhyme came first
in Italy, and more slowly in the North, although the North was to produce better
Latin poetry. ^ Ante, Chapters XL, iv., and XVIL
^ Opusc. xiv., De ordine erimitarum (Migne 145, col. 329).
" We may see upon a tree a leaf ready to succumb before the wintry frosts,
and, with the sap of autumnal clemency consumed, even now about to fall, so
that it barely cleaves to the twig it hangs from, but displays most evident signs
of [its] light ruin. The blasts are quivering, wild winds strike it to and fro,
the mid-winter horror of heavy air congeals with cold ; and that you may
mcurvel the more, the ground is strewn with the rest of the leaves everywhere
flowing down, and, with its locks laid low, the tree is stripped of its grace ; yet
that alone, none other remaining, endures, and, as the survivor of co-heirs,
succeeds to the rights of the brotherhood's possession. What then is left to be
imderstood from consideration of this thing, save that not even a leaf of a tree can
fall unless it receive beforehand the divine command ? "
This description is rhetorically elaborated ; but Damiani commonly wrote
more directly, as in this sentence from a letter to a nobleman, in which Damiani
urges him not to fail in his duty to his mother through affection for his wife :
" Sed forte dices : mater mea me frequenter exasperat, duris verbis meum et uxoris
meae corda perturbat ; non possumus tot injuriarum probra perferre, non valemus
austeritatis ejus et severae correptionis molestias tolerare " {Ep. vii. 3 ; Migne
144, col. 466). Translated ante, note 2, Vol. I. p. 269.
VOL. II O
194 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
Anselm's diction, in spite of its frequent cloister
rhetoric, has a simple and modem word-order. An account
has already been given of his life and of his thoughts, so
beautifully sky-blue, unpurpled with the crimson of human
passion, which made the works of Augustine more veritably
incandescent. 1 The great African was the strongest
individual influence upon Anselm's thought and language.
But the latter's style has departed further from the classical
sentence, and of itself indicates that the writer belongs
neither to the patristic period nor to the Carolingian time,
busied with its rearrangement of patristic thought. The
following is from his Proslogion upon the existence of God.
Through this discourse. Deity and the Soul are addressed
in the second person after the manner of Augustine's
Confessions.
" Excita nunc, anima mea, et erige totum intellectum tuum,
et cogita quantum potes quale et quantum sit illud bonum [i.e.
Deus]. Si enim singula bona delectabilia sunt, cogita intente quam
delectabile sit illud bonum quod continet jucunditatem omnium
bonorum ; et non qualem in rebus creatis sumus experti, sed
tanto differentem quanto differt Creator a creatura. Si enim
bona est vita creata, quam bona est vita creatrix ! Si jucunda
est salus facta, quam jucunda est salus quae fecit omnem salutem !
Si amabiUs est sapientia in cognitione rerum conditarum, quam
amabilis est sapientia quae omnia condidit ex nihilo ! Denique,
si multae et magnae delectationes sunt in rebus delectabilibus,
qualis et quanta delectatio est in illo qui fecit ipsa delectabilia ! " ^
In a more emotional passage Anselm arouses in his soul
the terror of the Judgment. It is from a " Meditatio " :
1 Ante, Chapter XI., iv.
^ Proslogion, cap. 24 (Migne 158, col. 239).
" Awaken now, my soul, and rouse all thy understanding, and consider, as
thou art able, of what nature and how great is that Good [God]. For if single
goods are objects of delight, consider intently how deUghtful is that good which
contains the joy of all goods ; and not such as in things created we have tried, but
differing as greatly as differs the Creator from the creature. For if life created
is good, how good is the life creatrix ! If joyful is the salvation wrought, how
joyful is the salvation which wrought all salvation ! If lovely is wisdom in the
knowledge of things created, how lovely is the wisdom which created all from
nothing. In fine, if there are many and great delectations in things delightful,
of what quality and greatness is delectation [i.e. the delectation that we take]
in Him who made the delights themselves ! "
The reader may observe that the word-order of Anselm's Latin is preserved
almost unchanged in the translation.
cHAP.xxxii MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 195
" Taedet animam meam vitae meae ; vivere erubesco, mori
pertimesco. Quid ergo restat tibi, o peccator, nisi ut in tota vita
tua plores totam vitam tuam, ut ipsa tota se ploret totam ? Sed
est in hoc quoque anima mea miserabiliter mirabilis et mirabiliter
miserabilis, quia non tantum dolet quantum se noscit ; sed sic
secura torpet, velut quid patiatur ignoret. O anima sterilis,
quid agis ? quid torpes, anima peccatrix ? Dies judicii venit,
juxta est dies Domini magnus, juxta et velox nimis, dies irae dies
ilia, dies tribulationis et angustiae, dies calamitatis et miseriae,
dies tenebrarum et caliginis, dies nebulae et turbinis, dies tubae et
clangoris. O vox diei Domini amara ! Quid dormitas, anima
tepida et digna evomi ? " ^
Damiani wrote in the middle of the eleventh century,
Anselm in the latter part. The northern lands could as yet
show no such characteristic styles,^ although the classically
educated German, Lambert of Hersfeld, wrote as correctly
and perspicuously as either. His Annals have won admira-
tion for their clear and correct Latinity, modelled upon
the styles of Sallust and Livy. He died in 1077, the year
of Canossa, his Annals covering the conflict between Henry
IV. and Hildebrand up to that event. The narrative moves
with spirit, as one may see by reading his description
of King Henry and his consort struggling through Alpine
ice and snow to reach that castle never to be forgotten, and
gain absolution from the Pope before the ban should have
completed Henry's ruin.^
1 " Meditatio II." (Migne 158, col. 722).
" My soul is offended with my life. I blush to live ; I fear to die. What
then remains for thee, O sinner, save that all thy life thou weepest over all thy
life, that it all may lament its whole self. But in this also is my soul miserably
wonderful and wonderfully miserable, that it does not grieve as much as it knows
itself [i.e. to the full extent of its self-knowledge] but secure, is Ustless as if it
knew not what it is suffering. O barren soul, what art thou doing ? why art
thou drowsing, sinner soul ? The Day of Judgment is coming, near is the great
day of the Lord, near and too swift the day of wrath, (that day !) day of tribulation
and distress, day of calamity and misery, day of shades and darkness, day of
cloud and whirlwind, day of the trump and the roar ! O voice of the day of
the Lord — harsh ! Why sleepest thou, soul lukewarm and fit to be spewed
out ? "
^ Perhaps it may seem questionable to treat Anselm as an Italian,
since he left Lombardy when a young man. Undoubtedly his theological
interests were affected by his northern environment. But his temperament
and language, his diction, his style, seem to me more closely connected with
native temperament.
" Annals for the year 1077 (Migne 146, col. 1234 sqq.) ; also in Mon. Germ.
Script, iii.
196 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
For the North, the best period of mediaeval Latin,
prose as well as verse, opens with the twelfth century. It
was indeed the great literary period of the Middle Ages.
For the vernacular literatures flourished as well as the
Latin. Provencal literature began as the eleventh century
closed, and was stifled in the thirteenth by the Albigensian
Crusade. So the twelfth was its great period. Likewise
with the Old French literature : except the Roland which
is earlier, the chief chansons de geste belong to the twelfth
century ; also the romances of antiquity, to be spoken of
hereafter ; also the romances of the Round Table, and a
great mass of chansons and fabliaux. The Old German
— or rather, Mittel Hochdeutsch — literature touches its
height as the century closes and the next begins, in
the works of Heinrich von Veldeke, Gottfried von Strass-
burg. Wolfram von Eschenbach, and Walther von der
Vogelweide.
The best Latin writers of the century lived, or sojourned,
or were educated, for the most part in the France north of
the Loire. Not that all of them were natives of that
territory ; for some were German bom, some saw the light
in England, and the birthplace of many is unknown. Yet
they seem to belong to France. Nearly all were ecclesiastics,
secular or regular. Many of them were notables in theology,
like Hugo of St. Victor, Abaelard, Alanus de Insulis (Lille);
many were poets as well, like Alanus and Hildebert and John
of Salisbury too ; one was a thunderer on the earth, and a
most deft politician, Bernard of Clairvaux, Some again are
known only as poets, sacred or profane, like Adam of St.
Victor, and Walter of ChatHlon — but of these hereafter.
The best Latin prose writing of this, or any other, mediaeval
period, had its definite purpose, metaphysical, theological, or
pietistic ; and the writers have been or will be spoken of
in connection with their specific fields of intellectual achieve-
ment or religious fervour. Here, without discussing the men
or their works, some favourable examples of their writing
will be given.
In the last passage quoted from Anselm, the reader
must have felt the working of cloister rhetoric, and have
noticed the antitheses and rhymes, to which mediaeval Latin
cHAP.xxxn MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 197
lent itself so readily.^ Yet it is a slight affair compared with
the confounding sonorousness, the flaring pictures, and
terrifying climaxes of St, Bernard when preaching upon the
same topic — the Judgment Day. In one of his famous
sermons on Canticles, the saint has been suggesting to his
audience, the monks of Clara Vallis, that although the Father
might ignore faults, not so the Dominus and Creator : " et qui
parcit filio, non parcet figmento, non parcet servo nequam."
Listen to the carr5dng out and pointing of this thought :
" Pensa cujus sit formidinis et horroris tuum at que omnium
contempsisse factorem, offendisse Dominum majestatis. Majes-
tatis est timeri, Domini est timeri, et maxima hujus majestatis,
hujusque Domini. Nam si reum regiae majestatis, quamvis
humanae, humanis legibus plecti capite sancitum sit, quis finis
contemnentium divinam omnipotentiam erit ? Tangit montes, et
fumigant ; et tarn tremendam majestatem audet irritare vilis
pulvisculus, uno levi flatu mox dispergendus, et minime recolli-
gendus ? Ille, ille timendus est, qui postquam acciderit corpus,
potestatem habet mittere et in gehennam. Paveo gehennam,
paveo judicis vultum, ipsis quoque tremendum angelicis
potestatibus. Contremisco ab ira potentis, a facie furoris ejus,
a fragore ruentis mundi, a confiagratione elementorum, a
tempestate valida, a voce archangeli, et a verbo aspero. [Feel
the climax of this sentence, which tells the end of the sinner.]
Contremisco a dentibus bestiae infemalis, a ventre inferi, a
rugientibus praeparatis ad escam. Horreo vermem rodentem,
et ignem torrentem, fumum, et vaporem, et sulphur, et spiritum
^ Also the accentual rhythms. Recent scholarship has done much to make
clear the intentional use of metrical cadences in classic Greek prose. This principle
of the cursus, as it is called {certi cursus conclusionesque verborum, Cic. Or at. 178),
was imitated and taken over into classic Latin prose, and was applied especially
to the closing words of clauses and periods (clausulae). As the feeling for metrical
quantity weakened, accent, always characteristic of " vulgar " Latin, tended
to supplant the metrical cadence not only in verse but in the cadences of prose ;
with the result that in the fourth and fifth centuries the curstis mixtus, sometimes
metrical and sometimes accentual, presents itself. After the sixth century,
generally speaking, these intended rhythms at the close of clauses and sentences
fell away, to be revived, however, in the eleventh century at the Roman Curia.
The cultivation of the cursus became part of the Ars Didandi {ante, pp. 148 and
156), and in some way its principles were usually followed in the better mediaeval
prose. See A. C. Clark, The Cursus in Mediaeval and Vulgar Latin (Oxford, 1910),
from which the substance of this note is drawn. See also Traube, Einleitung
in die lat. Philol. des Mittelalters, pp. 115-121 (Munich, 1911), and J. Shelly,
" Rhythmical Prose in Latin and English" {Church Quarterly Rev., April 1912).
The substitution of accentual rhythms and rhymes for metre in mediaeval verse
will be traced in the next chapter.
198 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
procellarum ; horreo tenebras exteriores. Quis dabit capiti
meo aquam, et oculis meis fontem lacrymarum ut praeveniam
fletibus fletum, et stridorem dentium, et manuum pedumque dura
vincula, et pondus catenanim prementium, stringentium, uren-
tium, nee consumentium ? Heu me, mater mea ! utquid me
genuisti filium doloris, filium amaritudinis, indignationis et
plorationis aetemae ? Cur exceptus genibus, cur lactatus
uberibus, natus in combustionem, et cibus ignis ? " ^
As one recovers from the sound and power of this high-
wrought passage, he notices how readily it might be turned
into the form of a Latin hymn ; and also how very modern
is its sequence of words. Bernard's Latin could whisper
intimate love, as well as thunder terror. He says, preaching
on the medicina, the healing power, of Jesu's name :
" Hoc tibi electuarium habes, o anima mea, reconditum in
vasculo vocabuli hujus quod est Jesus, salutiferum, certe, quodque
nulli unquam pesti tuae inveniatur inef&cax." ^
With the music of this prose one may compare the
sweet personal plaint of the following :
" Felices quos abscondit tabemaculo sue in umbra alarum
suarum sperantes, donee transeat iniquitas. Caeterum ego
infelix, pauper et nudus, homo natus ad laborem, implumis
avicula pene omni tempore nidulo exsulans, vento exposita et
turbini, turbatus sum et motus sum sicut ebrius, et omnis con-
scientia mea devorata est." ^
Extracts can give no idea of Bernard's literary powers,
any more than a small volume could tell the story of that
life which, so to speak, was magna pars of all contemporary
history. But since he was one of the best of Latin letter-
writers, one should not omit an example of his varied
epistolary style, which can be known in its compass only
from a large reading of his letters. The following is a short
letter, written to win back to the cloister a delicately nurtured
youth whose parents had lured him out into the world.
1 Sermo xvi. (Migne 183, col. 851). The power of this passage keeps it from
being hysterical. But the monkish hysteria, without the power, may be found
in the writings of St. Bernard's jackal, William of St. Thierry, printed in Migne,
Pat. Lot. 180. Notice his Meditationes, for example ; also his De contemplando
Deo, printed among St. Bernard's works (Migne 184, col. 365 sqq.).
2 Sermo xv. (Migne 183, col. 847). Translated ante, Vol. I., p. 427.
* Ep. xii., ad Guigonem (Migne 182, col. 116).
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 199
" Doleo super te, fili mi Gaufride, doleo super te. Et merito.
Quis enim non doleat florem juventutis tuae, quern laetantibus
angelis Deo illibatum obtuleras in odorem suavitatis, nunc a
daemonibus conculcari, vitiorum spurcitiis, et saeculi sordibus
inquinari ? Quomodo qui vocatus eras a Deo, revocantem
diabolum sequeris, et quern Christus trahere coeperat post se,
repente pedem ab ipso introitu gloriae retraxisti ? In te experior
nunc veritatem sermonis Domini, quem dixit : Inimici hominis,
domestici ejus (Matt. x. 36). Amici tui et proximi tui adversum
te appropinquaverunt, et steterunt. Revocaverunt te in fauces
leonis, et in portis mortis iterum collocaverunt te. Collocaverunt
te in obscuris, sicut mortuos saeculi : et jam parum est ut
descendasin ventrem inf eri ; jam te deglutire festinat, ac rugienti-
bus praeparatis ad escam tradere devorandum.
" Revertere, quaeso, revertere, priusquam te absorbeat
profundum, et urgeat super te puteus os suum ; priusquam
demergaris, unde ulterius non emergas ; priusquam ligatis
manibus et pedibus projiciaris in tenebras exteriores, ubi est
fletus et stridor dentium ; priusquam detrudaris in locum tene-
brosum, et opertum mortis caligine. Erubescis forte redire,
quia ad horam cessisti. Erubesce fugam, et non post fugam reverti
in proelium, et rursum pugnare. Necdum finis pugnae, necdum
ab invicem dimicantes acies discesserunt : adhuc victoria prae
manibus est. Si vis, nolumus vincere sine te, nee tuam tibi
invidemus gloriae portionem. Laeti occuremus tibi, laetis te
recipiemus amplexibus, dicemusque : Epulari et gaudere oportet,
quia hie filius noster mortuus fuerat, et revixit ; perierat, et
inventus est " (Luc. xv. 32).'^
The argument of this letter is, from the standpoint of
Bernard's time, as resistless as the style. Did it win back
the little monk ? Many wonderful examples of loving
expression could be drawn from Bernard's letters ; '^ but,
instead, an instance may be given of his none too subtle way
of uttering his hate : " Amaldus de Brixia, cujus conversatio
mel et doctrina venenum, cui caput columbae, cauda
scorpionis est, quem Brixia avomuit, Roma exhorruit,
Francia repulit, Germania abominatur, Italia non vult
recipere, fertur esse vobiscum." ^ And then he proceeds to
1 Bernard, Ep. 112, ad Gaufridum (Migne 182, col. 255). For translation
see ante. Vol. I., p. 414.
- E.g. Ep. i. and 144 (Migne 182, col. 70 and 300).
^ Ep. 196, ad Guidonem (Migne 182, col. 363). Translated ante, Vol. I.,
p. 417. See also the preceding letter, 195.
200 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
warn his correspondent of the danger of intercourse with
this arch-enemy of the Church.
Considering that Latin was a tongue which youths
learned at school rather than at their mothers' knees, such
writing as Bernard's is a triumphant recasting of an ancient
language. One notices in him, as generally with mediaeval
religious writers, the influence of the Vulgate, which was
mainly in the language of St. Jerome — of Jerome when not
writing as a literary virtuoso, but as a scholar occupied with
rendering the meaning, and willing to accept such linguistic
innovations as served his purpose.^ It is barely necessary
to state that the pious Latin literature of the Middle Ages,
besides constantly quoting from the Vulgate, is saturated
with its words and phrases. But beyond this influence,
one sees how masterful is Bernard's diction, quite freed
from observance of classical principles, quite of the writer
and his time, adapting itself with ease and power to the topic
and character of the composition, and always expressive of
the personality of the mighty saint.
Hildebert of Le Mans was a few years older than St.
Bernard. As an example of his prose a letter may be
cited, of which the translation has been given. It was
written in 1128, when he was Archbishop of Tours, in
protest against the encroachments of the royal power of the
French king, Louis the Fat, upon the rights of the Archi-
episcopacy of Tours in the matter of ecclesiastical appoint-
ments within that diocese :
" In adversis nonnullum solatium est, tempera sperare laetiora.
Diutius spes haec mihi blandita est, et velut agricolam messis in
herba, sic animum meum prosperitatis expectatio confortavit.
Caeterum jam nihil est quo serenitatem nimbosi temporis ex-
spectem, nihil est quo navis, in cujus puppi sedeo, crebris agitata
turbinibus, portum quietis attingat.
" Silent amici, silent sacerdotes Jesu Christi. Denique silent
et illi quorum suffragio credidi regem mecum ingratiam rediturum.
Credidi quidem, sed super dolorem vulnenim meorum rex, illis
silentibus, adjecit. Eorum tamen erat gravamini ecclesiae
canonicis obviare institutis. Eorum erat, si res postulasset,
opponere murum pro domo Israel. Verum apud serenissimum
regem opus est exhortatione potius quam increpatione, consilio
^ As to Jerome's two styles see Goelzer, La LatiniU de St. Jerome, Introduction.
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 201
quam praecepto, doctrina quam virga. His ille conveniendus
fuit, his reverenter instruendus, ne sagittas suas in sene compleret
sacerdote, ne sanctiones canonicas evacuaret, ne persequeretur
cineres Ecclesiae jam sepultae, cineres in quibus ego panem doloiis
manduco, in quibus bibo calicem luctus, de quibus eripi et evadere,
de morte ad vitam transire est.
" Inter has tamen angustias, nunquam de me sic ira
triumphavit, ut ahquem super Christo Domini clamorem deponere
vellem, seu pacem ipsius in manu forti et brachio Ecclesiae
adipisci. Suspecta est pax ad quam, non amore sed vi, subhmes
veniunt potestates. Ea facile rescindetur, et fiunt aliquando
novissima pejora prioribus. Alia est via qua compendiosius ad
eam Christo perducente pertingam. Jactabo cogitatum meum
in Domino, et ipse dabit mihi petitionem cordis mei. Recordatus
est Dominus Joseph, cujus pincerna Pharaonis obHtus, dum
prospera succederent, interveniendi pro eo curam abjecit. . . .
Fortassis recordabitur et mei, atque in desiderate httore navem
sistet fluctuantem. Ipse enim est qui respicit in orationem
humilium, et non spernit preces eorum. Ipse est in cujus manu
corda regum cerea sunt. Si invenero gratiam in ocuhs ejus,
gratiam regis vel facile consequar, vel utiliter amittam. Siquidem
offendere hominem proper Deum lucrari est gratiam Dei." ^
John of Salisbury (1110-1180), much younger than
Hildebert and a little younger than Bernard, seems to have
been the best scholar of his time. With the classics he is
as one in the company of friends ; he cites them as readily
as Scripture ; their sententiae have become part of his views
of life. John was an eager humanist, who followed his
studies to whatever town and to the feet of whatsoever
teacher they might lead him. So he listened to Abaelard
and many others. His writing is always lively and often
forcible, especially when vituperating the set who despised
classic reading. His most vivacious work, the Metalogicus,
was directed against their unnamed prophet, whom he dubs
" Comificius." ^ Its opening passage is of interest as John's
exordium, and because a somewhat consciously intending
stylist like our John is likely to exhibit his utmost virtuosity
in the opening sentences of an important work :
" Ad versus insigne donum naturae parentis et gratiae, cal-
umniam veterem et majorum nostrorum judicio condemnatam
^ Ep. ii. 33 (Migne 171, col. 256). Translation ante, p. 167.
^ See ante, p. 159.
202 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
excitat improbus litigator, et conquirens undique imperitiae
suae solatia, sibi proficere sperat ad gloriam, si multos similes sui,
id est si eos viderit imperitos ; habet enim hoc proprium arro-
gantiae tumor, ut se commetiatur aliis, bona sua, si qua sunt,
efferens, deprimens aliena ; defectumque proximi, suum putet
esse profectum. Omnibus autem recte sapientibus indubium
est quod natura, clementissima parens omnium, et dispositissima
moderatrix, inter caetera quae genuit animantia, hominem
privilegio rationis extulit, et usu eloquii insignivit : id agens
sedulitate officiosa, et lege dispositissima, ut homo qui gravedine
faeculentioris naturae et molis corporeae tarditate premebatur
et trahebatur ad ima, his quasi subvectus alis, ad alta ascendat,
et ad obtinendum verae beatitudinis bravium, omnia alia
felici compendio antecedat. Dum itaque naturam fecundat
gratia, ratio rebus perspiciendis et examinandis invigilat ; naturae
sinus excutit, metitur fructus et efficaciam singulorum : et innatus
omnibus amor boni, naturali urgente se appetitu, hoc, aut solum,
aut prae caeteris sequitur, quod percipiendae beatitudini maxime
videtur esse accommodum." ^
One perceives the effect of classical studies ; yet the
passage is good twelfth-century Latin, quite different from
the compositions of the Carolingian epoch, those, for example,
from the pen of Alcuin, who had studied the Classics like
John, but unlike him had no personal style. One gains
similar impressions from the diction of the Policraticus, a
lengthy, discursive work in which John surprises us with
^ " Against that signal gift of parent nature and grace, a shameless wrangler
has stirred up an old calumny, condemned by the judgment of our ancestors ;
and, seeking everywhere comfort for his ignorance, he hopes to advance himself
toward glory, if he shall see many like himself, see them ignorant, that is to say.
For the tumour of arrogance has this peculiarity, that it would measure itself
with others, exalting its own goods (if they exist), and depreciating those of
others. And he deems his neighbour's deficiency to be his own proficiency.
" Now it is indubitable to all truly wise, that Nature, kindest parent of all,
and best-ordering directress, among the other living beings which she brought
forth, distinguished man with the prerogative of reason and ennobled him with
the exercise of eloquence (or ' with the use of speech ') : executing this with
unremitting zeal and best-ordering decree, in order that man who was pressed
and dragged to the lowest by the heaviness of a clodlike nature and the slowness
of corporeal bulk, borne aloft as it were by these wings might ascend to the heights,
and for obtaining the crown of true blessedness excel aU others in happy economy.
While Grace thus fecundates Nature, Reason watches over the matters to be
inspected and considered ; Nature's bosom showers, metes out the fruits and
faculty of individuals ; and the inborn love of good, stimulating itself by its
natural appetite, follows this [i.e. the good] either solely or before all else, which
seems best adapted to obtaining bliss " {Metal, i. i ; Migne 199, col. 825). These
translations are kept close to the original, in order to show the construction of
the sentences.
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 203
his classical equipment. Although containing many quoted
passages, it is not made of extracts strung together ; but
reflects the sentiments or tells the opinions of ancient
philosophers in the writer's own way. The following shows
John's knowledge of early Greek philosophers, and is a fair
example of his ordinary style :
" Alterum vero philosophorum genus est, quod lonicum
dicitur et a Grecis ulterioribus traxit originem. Horum princeps
fuit Tales Milesius, unus illorum septem, qui dicti sunt sapientes.
Iste cum rerum naturam scrutatus inter ceteros emicuisset,
maxima admirabilisexstitit quod astrologiae numeriscomprehensis
solis et lunae defectus praedicebat. Huic successit Anaximander
ejus auditor, qui Anaximenem discipulum reliquit et successorem.
Diogenes quoque ejusdem auditor exstitit, et Anaxagoras qui
omnium rerum quas videmus effectorem divinum animum docuit.
Ei successit auditor ejus Archelaiis, cujus discipulus Socrates
fuisse perhibetur, magister Platonis, qui teste Apuleio prius
Aristoteles dictus est, sed deinde a latitudine pectoris Plato, et
in tantam eminentiam philosophiae et vigore ingenii, et studii
exercitio, et omni morum venustate eloquii quoque suavitate
et copia subvectus est ut quasi in trono sapientiae residens,
praecepta quadam auctoritate visus sit tarn antecessoribus quam
successoribus philosophis imperare. Et primus quidem Socrates
universam philosophiam ad corrigendos componendosque mores
flexisse memoratur, cum ante ilium omnes physicis, id est rebus
naturalibus, perscrutandis maximam operam dederint." ^
These extracts from the writings of saints and scholars
may be supplemented by two extracts from compositions of
^ " There is another class of philosophers called the Ionic, and it took its
origin from the more remote Greeks. The first of these was Thales the Milesian,
one of those seven who were called ' wise.' He, when he had searched out the
nature of things, shone among his fellows, and was especially admirable because,
comprehending the laws of astrology, he predicted eclipses of the sun and moon.
To him succeeded his hearer, Anaximander, who (in turn) left Anaximenes as
disciple and successor. Diogenes, likewise, was his hearer, and Anaxagoras who
taught that the divine mind was the author of all things that we see. To him
succeeded his hearer Archelaiis, whose disciple is said to have been Socrates, the
master of Plato, who, according to Apuleius, was first called Aristotle, but then
Plato from his breadth of chest, and was borne aloft to such height of philosophy,
by vigour of genius, by assiduity of study, by every graciousness of character, and
by sweetness and power of eloquence, that, as if seated on the throne of wisdom,
he has seemed to command by a certain ordained authority the philosophers
before and after him. And indeed Socrates is said to have been the first to have
turned universal philosophy to the improvement and ordering of manners ; since
before him all had devoted themselves chiefly to physics, that is to examining the
things of nature " {Policraticus, vii. 5 ; Webb ii. 104, Migne 199, col. 643).
204 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
another class. The mediaeval chronicle has not a good
reputation. Its credulity and uncritical spirit varied with
the time and man. Little can be said in favour of its
general form, which usually is stupidly chronological, or
annalistic. The example of classical historical composition
was lost on mediaeval annalists. Yet their work is not always
dull ; and, by the twelfth century, their diction had become
as mediaeval as that of the theologian rhetoricians, although
it rarely crystallizes to personal style by reason of the
insignificance of the writers. A well-known work of this
kind is the Gesta Dei per Francos, by Guibert of Nogent,
who wrote his account of the First Crusade a few years after
its turmoil had passed by. The following passage tells of
proceedings upon the conclusion of Urban's great crusading
oration at the Council of Clermont in 1099 :
" Peroraverat vir excellentissimus, et omnes qui se ituros
voverant, beati Petri potestate absolvit, eadem, ipsa apostolica
auctoritate firmavit, et signum satis conveniens hujus tam
honestae professionis instituit, et veluti cingulum militiae, vel
potius militaturis Deo passionis Dominicae stigma tradens,
crucis figuram, ex cujuslibet materiae panni, tunicis, byrris et
palliis iturorum, assui mandavit. Quod si quis, post hujus signi
acceptionem, aut post evidentis voti pollicitationem ab ista
benevolentia, prava poenitudine, aut aliquorum suorum affec-
tione resileret, ut exlex perpetuo haberetur omnino praecepit,
nisi resipisceret ; idemque quod omiserat foede repeteret. Prae-
terea omnes illos atroci damnavit anathemate, qui eorum uxoribus,
filiis, aut possessionibus, qui hoc Dei iter aggrederentur, per
integrum triennii tempus, molestiam auderent inferre. Ad
extremum, cuidam viro omnimodis laudibus efferendo, Podiensis
urbis episcopo, cujus nomen doleo quia neque usquam reperi,
nee audivi, curam super eadem expeditione regenda contulit,
et vices suas ipsi, super Christiani populi quocunque venirent
institutione, commisit. Unde et manus ei, more apostolorum,
data pariter benedictione, imposuit. Quod ille quam sagaciter
sit exsecutus, docet mirabilis operis tanti exitus." ^
^ " The most excellent man concluded his oration, and by the power of the
blessed Peter absolved all who had taken the vow to go, and by apostolic authority
confirmed the same ; and he instituted a suitable sign of this so honourable vow ;
and as a badge of soldiering (or knighthood), or rather, of being about to soldier,
for God, he took the mark of the Lord's Passion, the figure of a cross, made from
cloth of any kind, and ordered it to be sewed upon the tunics and cloaks of those
about to go. But if any one, after receiving this sign, or after making open
promise, should draw back from that good intent, by base repenting or through
cHAP.xxxii MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 205
This Frenchman Guibert is almost vivacious. A certain
younger contemporary of his, of English birth, could con-
struct his narrative quite as well. Ordericus Vitalis
(d. 1 142) is said to have been bom at Wroxeter, though
he spent most of his life as monk of St. Evroult in
Normandy. There he wrote his Historia Ecclesiastica of
Normandy and England. His account of the loss of the
White Ship in 11 20 tells the story :
" Thomas, filius Stephani, regem adiit, eique marcum auri
offerens, ait : ' Stephanas, Airardi filius, genitor meus fuit, et ipse
in omni vita sua patri tuo in man servivit. Nam ilium, in sua
puppe vectum, in Angliam conduxit, quando contra Haraldum
pugnaturus, in Angliam perrexit. Hujusmodi autem officio
usque ad mortem famulando ei placuit, et ab eo multis honoratus
exeniis, inter contribules sues magnifice floruit. Hoc feudum,
domine rex, a te requiro, et vas quod Can dida-N avis appellatur,
merito ad regalem famulatum optime instnictum habeo.' Cui
rex ait : ' Gratum habeo quod petis. Mihi quidem aptam
navim elegi, quam non mutabo ; sed filios meos, Guillelmum et
Richardum, quos sicut me diligo, cum multa regni mei nobilitate,
nunc tibi commendo.'
" His auditis, nautae gavisi sunt, filioque regis adulantes,
vinum ab eo ad bibendum postulaverunt. At ille tres vini modios
ipsis dari praecepit. Quibus acceptis, bibenint, sociisque abund-
anter propinaverunt, nimiumque potantes inebriati sunt. Jussu
regis multi barones cum filiis suis puppim ascenderunt, et fere
trecenti, ut opinor, in infausta nave fuerunt. Duo si quidem
monachi Tironis, et Stephanus comes cum duobus militibus,
Guillelmus quoque de Rolmara, et Rabellus Camerarius,
Eduardus de Salesburia, et alii plures inde exierunt, quia nimiam
multitudinem lascivae et pompaticae juventutis inesse conspicati
sunt. Periti enim remiges quinquaginta ibi erant, et feroces
epibatae, qui jam in navi sedes nacti turgebant, et suimet prae
affection for his kin, he ordained that he should be held an outlaw utterly and
perpetually, unless he turn and set himself again to the performance of what he
had basely neglected.
" Furthermore, with terrible anathema he damned all who within the term of
three years should dare to do ill to the wives, children, or property of those setting
forth on this journey of God. And finally he committed to a certain and praise-
worthy man (bishop of Le Puy, whose name I am sorry never to have found or
heard) the care and regulation of the expedition, and conferred his own authority
upon him over the disposition (?) of Christian people wherever they should come.
Whereupon giving his benediction, in the apostolic manner, he placed his hands
upon him. How sagaciously that one executed the behest, is shown by the
marvellous outcome of so great an undertaking " (Guibert of Nogent, Gesta Dei
per Francos, ii. 2 ; Migne 156, col. 702).
2o6 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
ebrietate immemores, vix aliquem reverenter agnoscebant.
Heu ! quamplures illorum mentes pia devotione erga Deum
habebant vacuas
' Qui maris immodicas moderatur et aeris iras.'
Unde sacerdotes, qui ad benedicendos illos illuc accesserant,
aliosque ministros qui aquam benedictam deferebant, cum
dedecore et cachinnis subsannantes abigerunt ; sed paulo post
derisionis suae ultionem receperunt.
" Soli homines, cum thesauro regis et vasis merum ferentibus,
Thomae carinam implebant, ipsumque ut regiam classem, quae
jam aequora sulcabat, summopere prosequeretur, commonebant.
Ipse vero, quia ebrietate desipiebat, in virtute sua, sateUitumque
suorum confidebat, et audacter, quia omnes qui jam praecesserant
praeiret, spondebat. Tandem navigandi signum dedit. Porro
schippae remos baud segniter arripuerunt, et alia laeti, quia quid
eis ante oculos penderet nesciebant, armamenta coaptaverunt,
navemque cum impetu magno per pontum currere fecerunt.
Cumque remiges ebrii totis navigarent conatibus, et infelix
gubernio male intenderet cursui dirigendo per pelagus, ingenti
saxo quod quotidie fluctu recedente detegitur et nirsus accessu
maris cooperitur, sinistrum latus Candidae-Navis vehementer
illisum est, confractisque duabus tabulis, ex insperato, navis,
proh dolor ! sub versa est. Omnes igitur in tanto discrimine
simul exclamaverunt ; sed aqua mox implente ora, pariter
perierunt. Duo soli virgae qua velum pendebat manus injecerunt,
et magna noctis parte pendentes, auxilium quodlibet praestolati
sunt. Unus erat Rothomagensis carnifex, nomine Beroldus, et
alter generosus puer, nomine Goisfredus, Gisleberti de Aquila
filius.
" Tunc luna in signo Tauri nona decima fuit, et fere ix horis
radiis suis mundum illustravit, et navigantibus mare lucidum
reddidit. Thomas nauclerus post primam submersionem vires
resumpsit, suique memor, super undas caput extulit, et videns
capita eorum qui ligno utcunque inhaerebant, interrogavit :
' Filius regis quid devenit ? ' Cumque naufragi respondissent
ilium cum omnibus coUegis suis deperisse : ' Miserum,' inquit,
' est amodo meum vivere.' Hoc dicto, male desperans, maluit
iUic occumbere, quam furore irati regis pro pernicie prolis oppetere,
seu longas in vinculis poenas lucre." ^
1 Hist, ecclesiastica, pars iii. lib. xii. cap. 25 (ed. Prevost, t. iv. p. 411 sqq.
(Paris, 1852) ; Migne 188, col. 889-892). " Thomas, son of Stephen, approached
the king, smd offering him a mark of gold, said : ' Stephen, son of Airard, was my
sire, and all his life he served thy father [William the Conqueror] on the sea.
For him, borne on his ship, he conveyed to England, when he proceeded to England
in order to make war on Harold. In this manner of service serving him mitil
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 207
Our examples thus far belong to the twelfth century.
As touching its successor, it will be interesting to observe
the qualities of two opposite kinds of writing, the one spring-
ing from the intellectual activities, and the other from the
death he gave him satisfaction, and honoured with many gifts from him, he
prospered exceedingly among his people. This privilege, lord king, I claim of
thee, and the vessel which is called White Ship I have ready, fitted out in the best
manner for royal needs. To whom the king said : ' I am pleased at your petition.
For myself indeed I have selected a proper ship, which I shall not change ; but
my sons, William and Richard, whom I cherish as myself, with much nobility
of my realm, I commend now to thee.'
" Hearing these words the sailors were merry, and bowing down before the
king's son, asked of him wine to drink. He ordered three measmres of wine to
be given them. Receiving these they drank and pledged their comrades' health
abundantly, and with deep potations became drunk. At the king's order many
barons with their sons went aboard the ship, and there were about three hundred,
as I believe, in that fatal bark. Then two monks of Tiron, and Coimt Stephen with
two knights, also William of Rolmar, and Rabellus the chamberlain, and Edward
of Salisbury, and a number of others, went out from it, because they saw such
a crowd of wanton showy youth aboard. And fifty tried rowers were there and
insolent marines, who having seized seats in the ship were brazening it, and
forgetting themselves through drunkenness, showed respect for scarcely any one.
Alas ! how many of them had minds void of pious devotion toward God ! — ' Who
tempers the exceeding rages of the sea and air.' And so the priests, who had
gone up there to bless them, and the other ministrants who bore the holy water,
they drove away with derision and loud guffaws ; but soon after they paid the
penalty of their mocking.
" Only men, with the king's treasure and the vessels holding the wine, filled
the keel of Thomas ; and they pressed him eagerly to follow the royal fleet which
was already cutting the waves. And he himself, because he was silly from drink,
trusted in his skill and that of his crew, and rashly promised to outstrip all who
were now ahead of him. Then he gave the word to put to sea. At once the
rowers snatched their oars, and because they did not know what hung before their
eyes, they gladly adjusted their tackle, and made the ship start over the sea with
a great bound. Now while the drunken rowers were putting forth all their strength,
and the wretched pilot was paying slack attention to steering his course over the
gulf, upon a great rock which daily is uncovered by the ebbing wave and again
is covered when the sea is at flood, the port side of White Ship struck violently,
and with two planks smashed, all imexpectedly the ship, alas ! was capsized.
All cried out together in such a catastrophe ; but the water quickly filling their
mouths, they perished alike. Two only cast their hands upon the boom from
which hung the sail, and clinging to it a great part of the night, waited for some
aid. One was a butcher of Rouen named Berold, and the other a well-born lad
named Geoffrey, son of Gilbert of Aquila.
" The moon was then at its nineteenth in the sign of the Bull, and lighted
the earth for nearly nine hours with its beams, making the sea bright for navigators.
Captain Thomas after his first submersion regained his strength, and bethinking
himself, pushed his head above the waves, and seeing the heads of those clinging
to some piece of wood, asked, ' What has become of the king's son ? ' When the
shipwrecked answered that he had perished with all his companions, ' Miserable,'
said he, ' is my life henceforth.' Saying this, and utterly despairing, he chose to
die there, rather than meet the fury of the king enraged for the destruction of
his children, or undergo long pimishment in chains."
2o8 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
religious awakening, of the time. In the thirteenth century,
scientific and scholastic writing was of representative import-
ance, and deeply affected the development of Latin prose.
Very different in style were the Latin stories and vitae of
the blessed Francis of Assisi and other saints, composed
in Italy.
Roger Bacon, of whom there will be much to say, com-
posed most of his extant works about the year 1267.^ His
language is often rough and involved, from his impetuosity
and eagerness to utter what was in him. But it is always
vigorous. He took pains to say just what he meant, and
what was worth saying; and frequently rewrote his sentences.
His writings show little rhetoric ; yet they are stamped with
a Baconian style, which has a cumulative force. The word-
order is modem with scarcely a trace of the antique. Per-
haps we may say that he wrote Latin like an Englishman
of vehement temper and great intellect. He is powerful in
continuous exposition ; yet instances of his general, and
very striking statements, will illustrate his diction at its best.
In the following sentence he recognizes the progressiveness
of knowledge, a rare idea in the Middle Ages :
" Nam semper posteriores addiderunt ad opera prionim, et
multa correxerunt, et plura mutaverunt, sicut maxime per Aris-
totelem patet, qui omnes sententias praecedentium discussit." ^
Again, he animadverts upon the duty of thirteenth-
century Christians to supply the defects of the old
philosophers :
" Quapropter antiquorum defectus deberemus nos posteriores
supplere, quia introivimus in labores eorum, per quos, nisi simus
asini, possumus ad meliora excitari ; quia miserrimum est semper
uti inventis et nunquam inveniendis." ^
Speaking of language, he says :
" Impossibile est quod proprietas unius linguae servetur in
alia." * ( " The idioms of a language cannot be preserved in a
translation.") And again : " Omnes philosophi fuerunt post
patriarchas et prophetas . . . et legerunt libros prophetarum et
1 Post, Chapter XLII. ^ Opus majus, pars i. cap. 6.
3 Op. maj. ii. cap. 14. * Op. maj. iii. i.
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 209
patriarcharum qui sunt in sacro textu." ^ (" The philosophers
of Greece came after the prophets of the Old Testarnent and read
their works contained in the sacred text/')
In the first of these sentences Bacon shows his linguistic
insight ; in the second he reflects an uncritical view enter-
tained since the time of the Church Fathers ; in both, he
writes with an order of words requiring no change in an
English translation.
In his time, Bacon had but a sorry fame, and his works
little influence. The writings of his younger contemporary
Thomas Aquinas exerted greater influence than those of any
man after Augustine. They represent the culmination of
scholasticism. He was Italian bom, and his language,
however difficult the matter, is lucidity itself. It is never
rhetorical ; but measured, temperate, and balanced ; properly
proceeding from the mind which weighed every proposition
in the scales of universal consideration. Sometimes it gains
a certain fervour from the clarity and import of the state-
ment which it so lucidly conveys. In article eighth, of the
first Quaestio, of Pars Prima of the Summa theologiae,
Thomas thus decides that Theology is a rational {argumen-
tativa) science :
" Respondeo dicendum quod, sicut aliae scientiae non argu-
mentantur ad sua principia probanda, sed ex principiis argumen-
tantur ad ostendendum aha in ipsis scientiis ; ita haec doctrina
non argumentatur ad sua principia probanda, quae sunt articuU
fidei ; sed ex eis procedit ad aliquid aliud ostendendum ; sicut
Apostolus I ad Cor. xv., ex resurrectione Christi argumentatur
ad resurrectionem communem probandam.
" Sed tamen consider andum est in scientiis philosophicis,
quod inferiores scientiae nee probant sua principia, nee contra
negantem principia disputant, sed hoc rehnquunt superiori
scientiae : suprema vero inter eas, sciHcet metaphysica, disputat
contra negantem sua principia, si adversarius aHquid concedit :
si autem nihil concedit, non potest cum eo disputare, potest tamen
solvere rationes ipsius. Unde sacra scriptura [i.e. Theology],
cum non habeat superiorem, disputat cum negante sua principia :
argumentando quidem,si adversarius aliquid concedat eorum quae
per divinam revelationem habentur ; sicut per auctoritates sacrae
doctrinae disputamus contra heriticos, et per unum articulum
'^ op. maj. ii. 14.
VOL. II P
210 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
contra negantes alium. Si vero adversarius nihil credat eorum
quae divinitus revelantur, non remanet amplius via ad pro-
bandum articulos fidei per rationes, sed ad solvendum rationes,
si quas inducit, contra fidem. Cum enim fides infallibili veritati
innitatur, impossibile autem sit de vero demonstrari contrarium,
manifestum est probationes quae contra fidem inducuntur, non
esse demonstrationes, sed solubilia argumenta." ^
Of a different intellectual temperament was John oi
Fidanza, known as St. Bonaventura.^ He also was born and
passed his youth in Italy. This sainted General of the
Franciscan Order was a few years older than the great
Dominican, who was his friend. Both doctors died in the
year 1274. Bonaventura's powers of constructive reasoning
were excellent. His diction is clear and beautiful, and elo-
quent with a spiritual fervour whenever the matter is such as
to evoke it. His account of how he came to write his famous
little Itinerarium mentis in Deum is full of temperament.
" Cum igitur exemplo beatissimi patris Francisci hanc pacem
anhelo spiritu quaererem, ego peccator, qui loco ipsius patris
beatissimi post eius transitum septimus in generali fratrum minis-
terio per omnia indignus succedo ; contigit, ut nutu divino circa
Beati ipsius transitum, anno trigesimo tertio ad montem Alvernae
tanquam ad locum quietum amore quaerendi pacem spiritus
declinarem,ibique existens,dum mente tractarem aliquasmentales
ascensiones in Deum, inter alia occurrit illud miraculum, quod in
praedicto loco contigit ipsi beato Francisco, de visione scilicet
Seraph alati ad instar Crucifixi. In cuius consideratione statim
visum est mihi, quod visio ilia praetenderet ipsius patris suspen-
sionem in contemplando et viam, per quam pervenitur ad eam." ^
And Bonaventura at the end of his Itinerarium speaks
of the perfect passing of Francis into God through the very
mystic climax of contemplation, concluding thus :
" Si autem quaeras, quomodo haec fiant, interroga gratiam,
non doctrinam ; desiderium, non intellectum ; gemitum orationis,
non studium lectionis ; sponsum, non magistrum ; Deum, non
hominem ; caliginem, non claritatem ; non lucem, sed ignem
totaliter inflammantem et in Deum excessivis unctionibus et
ardentissimis affectionibus transferentem." *
1 For translation see post, Chapter XXXV.
2 Post, Chapter XXXIX.
^ Itinerarium mentis in Deum, Prologus, 2.
* Ibid. cap. vii. 6. For translations see post, Chapter XXXIX.
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 211
Bonaventura's fervent diction will serve to carry us over
from the more unmitigated intellectuality of Bacon and
Thomas to the simpler matter of those personal and pious
narratives from which may be drawn concluding illustrations
of mediaeval Latin prose. Some of the authors will show
the skill which comes from training ; others are quite
innocent of grammar, and their Latin has made a happy
surrender to the genius of their vernacular speech, which
was the lingua vulgaris of northern Italy. *
One of the earliest biographers of St. Francis of Assisi
was Thomas of Celano, a skilled Latinist, who was enraptured
with the loveliness of Francis's life. His diction is limpid
and rhjrthmical, A well-known passage in his Vita prima
(for he wrote two Lives) tells of Francis's joyous assurance of
the great work which God would accomplish through the
simple band who formed the beginnings of the Order. This
assurance crystallized in a vision of multitudes hurrying to
join. Francis speaks to the brethren :
" Confortamini, charissimi, et gaudete in Domino, nee, quia
pauci videmini, efficiamini tristes. Ne vos deterreat mea, vel
vestra simplicitas, quoniam sicut mihi a Domino in veritate
ostensum est, in maximam multitudinem faciet vos crescere Deus,
et usque ad fines orbis multipliciter dilatabit. Vidi multitudinem
magnam hominum ad nos venientium, et in habitu sanctae
conversationis beataeque religionis regula nobiscum volentium
conversari ; et ecce adhuc sonitus eorum est in auribus meis,
euntium,et redeuntium secundum obedientiae sanctae mandatum:
vidique vias ipsorum multitudine plenas ex omni fere natione
in his partibus convenire. Veniunt Francigenae, festinant
Hispani, Teuthonici, et Anglici currunt, et aliarum diversarum
linguarum accelerat maxima multitude.
" Quod cum audissent fratres, repleti sunt gaudio Salvatoris
sive propter gratiam, quam dominus Deus contulerat sancto suo,
sive quia proximorum lucrum sitiebant ardenter, quos desider-
abant ut salvi essent, in idipsum quotidie augmentari." ^
We feel the flow and rhythm, and note the agreeable
balancing of clauses. Francis died in 1226. The Vita
prima by Celano was approved by Gregory IX. in 1229.
Already other matter touching the saint was gathering in
^ Vita prima, cap. xi. Translated ante, Vol. I., p. 444.
212 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
anecdote and narrative. Much of it was brought together
in the so-called Speculum perfedionis, which has been con-
fidently but very questionably ascribed to Francis's personal
disciple, Brother Leo. Brother Leo, or whoever may have
been the narrator or compiler, was no scholar ; his Latm is
naively incorrect, and has also the simphcity of Gospel
narrative. An interesting passage tells with what loving
wisdom Francis interpreted a text of Scripture :
" Manente ipso apud Senas venit ad eum quidam doctor sacrae
theologiae de ordine Praedicatorum, vir utique humihs et spintu-
aUs valde. Quum ipse cum beato Francisco de verbis Domini
simul aliquamdiu contulissent interrogavit eum magister de lUo |
verbo Ezechielis : Si non annuntiaveris tmpto impietatem suam
animam ejus de manu tua requiram. Dixit enim : ' Multos, bone
pater ego cognosco in peccato mortali qmbus non annuntio
impietatem eorum, numquid de manu mea ipsorum ammae
requirentur ? ' , . ,. ^ j. -j
" Cui beatus Franciscus humiliter dixit se esse idiotam et ideo
magis expedire sibi doceri ab eo quam super scripturae sententiam
respondere. Tunc ille humiUs magister adjecit : ' Frater, beet
ab aliquibus sapientibus hujus verbi expositionem audivenm
tamen libenter super hoc vestrum perciperem mteUectum. Dixit
ergo beatus Franciscus : ' Si verbum debeat generaUter mtelligi,
ego taliter accipio ipsum quod servus Dei sic debet vita et sanc-
titate in seipso ardere vel fulgere ut luce exempli et Ungua sanctae
conversationis omnes impios reprehendat. Sic, mquam, splendor
eius et odor famae ipsius annuntiabit omnibus imquitates eorum.
" Plurimum itaque doctor ille aedificatus recedens dixit socus
beati Francisci : ' Fratres mei, theologia hujus viri puntate et
contemplatione subnixa est aquila volans, nostra vero scientia
ventre graditur super terram.' " ^
Another passage has Francis breaking out in song from
the joy of his love of Christ :
" Ebrius amore et compassione Christi beatus Franciscus
quandoque taUa faciebat, nam dulcissima melodia spiritus intra
se ipsum ebulliens frequenter exterius gallice dabat sonum et
vena divini susurrii quam auris ejus suscipiebat furtive gaUicum
erumpebat in jubilum. .
"Lignum quandoque coUigebat de terra ipsumque smistro
brachio superponens aliud Hgnum per modum arcus m manu
1 spec, perfedionis, ed. Sabatier, cap. 53- Translated ante, Vol. I., p. 443-
CHAP. XXXII MEDIAEVAL LATIN PROSE 213
dextera trahebat super illud, quasi super viellam vel aliud
instrumentum atque gestus ad hoc idoneos faciens gallice
cantabat de Domino Jesu Christo. Terminabatur denique tota
haec tripudiatio in lacrymas et in compassionem passionis Christi
hie jubilus solvebatur.
" In his trahebat continue suspiria et ingeminatis gemitibus
eorum quae tenebat in manibus obHtus suspendebatur ad
caelum." ^
This Latin is as childlike as the Old Italian of the
Fioretti of St. Francis ; it has a like word-order, and one
might almost add, a like vocabulary. The simple, ignorant
writer seems as if held by a direct and personal inspiration
from the familiar life of the sweet saint. His language
reflects that inspiration, and mirrors his own childlike
character. Hence he has a style, direct, effective, moving
to tears and joy, like his impression of the blessed Francis.
A not dissimilar kind of childlike Latin could attain to
a remarkable symmetry and balance. The Legenda aurea
is before us, written by the Dominican Jacobus a Voragine,
by race a Genoese, and living toward the close of the
thirteenth century. This book was the most popular
compend of saints' lives in use in the later Middle Ages.
Its stories are told with fascinating naivete. We cite the
opening sentences from its chapter on the Annunciation,
just to show the harmony and balance of its periods. The
passage is exceptional and almost formal in these qualities :
" Annunciatio dominica dicitur, quia in tali die ab angelo
adventus filii Dei in carnem fuit annuntiatus, congruum enim fuit,
ut incarnationem praecederet angelica annuntiatio,triplici ratione.
Primo ratione ordinis connotandi, ut scilicet ordo reparationis
responderet ordini praevaricationis. Unde sicut dyabolus tentavit
mulierem,uteam pertraheret ad dubitationem et perdubitationem
ad consensum et per consensum ad lapsum, sic angelus nuntiavit
virgini, ut nuntiando excitaret ad fidem et per fidem ad consensum
et per consensum ad concipiendum Dei filium. Secundo ratione
ministerii angelici, quia enim angelus est Dei minister et servus et
beata virgo electa erat, ut esset Dei mater, et congruum est
ministrum dominae famulari, conveniens fuit, ut beatae virgini
annuntiatio per angelum fieret. Tertio ratione lapsus angelici
1 Spec, perfectionis, ed. Sabatier, cap. 93. Translated ante, Vol. I., p. 448.
2 14 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
reparandi. Quia enim incarnatio non tantum faciebat ad repara-
tionem humani lapsus, sed etiam ad reparationem ruinae angelicae,
ideo angeli non debuerunt excludi. Unde sicut sexus mulieris
non excluditur a cognitione mysterii incarnationis et resurrec-
tionis, sic etiam nee angelicus nuntius. Imo Deus utrumque
angelo mediante nuntiat mulieri, scilicet incarnationem virgin!
Mariae et resurrectionem Magdelenae." ^
These extracts bring us far into the thirteenth century.
Two hundred years later, mediaeval Latin prose, if one
may say so, sang its swan song in that little book which
is a last, sweet, and. composite echo of all mellifluous
mediaeval piety. Yet perhaps this De imitatione Christi of
Thomas a Kempis can scarcely be classed as prose, so full
is it of assonances and rhythms fit for chanting.
1 Cap. li., ed. Graesse.
" The Annunciation of our Lord is so called, because on that day by an angel
the advent of the Son of God in the flesh v/as announced, for it was fitting that the
angelical annunciation should precede the incarnation, for a threefold reason.
First, by reason of betokening the order, that to wit the order of reparation should
answer to the order of transgression. Accordingly as the devil tempted the
woman, that he should draw her to doubt and through doubt to consent and
through consent to fall, so the angel announced to the Virgin, that by announcing
he should arouse her to faith and through faith to consent and through consent to
conceiving God's son. Secondly, by reason of the angelic ministry, because since
the angel is God's minister and servant, and the blessed Virgin was chosen in
order that she might be God's mother, and it is fitting that the minister should
serve the mistress, so it was proper that the annunciation to the blessed Virgin
should take place through an angel. Thirdly, by reason of repairing the angelical
fall. Because since the incarnation worked not only for the reparation of the
human fall, but also for the reparation of the angelical catastrophe, therefore
the angels ought not to be excluded. Accordingly as the female sex is not excluded
from knowledge of the mystery of the incarnation and resurrection, so also neither
the angelical messenger. Behold, God twice announces to a woman by a mediating
angel, both the incarnation to the Virgin Mary and the resurrection to the Magda-
lene." The order of the Latin words is scarcely changed in the translation.
CHAPTER XXXIII
EVOLUTION OF MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE
I. Metrical Verse.
II. Substitution of Accent for Quantity.
III. Sequence-Hymn and Student-Song.
IV. Passage of Themes into the Vernacular.
In mediaeval Latin poetry the endeavour to preserve a
classical style and the irresistible tendency to evolve new
forms are more palpably distinguishable than in the prose.
For there is a visible parting of the ways between the reten-
tion of the antique metres and their fruitful abandonment
in verses built of accentual rhyme. Moreover, this formal
divergence corresponds to a substantial difference, inasmuch
as there was usually a larger survival of antique feeling and
allusion in the mediaeval metrical attempts than in the
rhyming poems.
As in the prose, so in the poetry, the lines of development
may be followed from the Carolingian time. But a difference
will be found between Italy and the North ; for in Italy the
course was quicker, while a less organic evolution resulted in
verse less excellent and less distinctly mediaeval. By the
end of the eleventh century, Latin poetry in Italy, rhyming
or metrical, seems to have drawn itself along as far as it was
destined to progress ; but in the North a richer growth
culminates a century later. Indeed the most originative line
of evolution of mediaeval Latin verse would seem to have
been confined to the North in the main if not exclusively.
The following pages offer no history of mediaeval Latin
poetry, even as the previous chapter made no attempt to
sketch the history of the prose. Their object is to point
215
2i6 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
out the general lines along which the verse-forms were
developed, or were perhaps retarded. Three may be dis-
tinguished. The first is marked by the retention of quantity
and the endeavour to preserve the ancient measures. In
the second, accent and rhyme gradually take the place of
metre within the old verse-forms. The third is that of the
Sequence, wherein the accentual rhyming hymn springs from
the chanted prose, which had superseded the chanting of the
final a of the Alleluia.^
The lover of classical Greek and Latin poetry knows the
beautiful fitness of the ancient measures for the thought and
feeling which they enframed. If his eyes chance to fall on
some twelfth-century Latin hymn, he will be struck by its
different quality. He will quickly perceive that classic forms
would have been unsuited to the Christian and romantic
sentiment of the mediaeval period,^ and will realize that
some vehicle besides metrical verse would have been needed
for this thoroughly declassicized feeling, even had metrical
quantity remained a vital element of language, instead of
passing away some centuries before. Metre was but con-
vention in the time of Charlemagne. Yet it kept its sway
with scholars, and could not lack votaries so long as classical
poetry made part of the Ars grammatica or was read for
delectation. Metrical composition did not cease throughout
the Middle Ages. But it was not the true mediaeval style,
and became obviously academic as accentual verse was
perfected and made fit to carry spiritual emotion. Never-
1 In order that no reader may be surprised at the absence of discussion of the
antique antecedents of the more particular genres of mediaeval poetry (Latin and
Vernacular), I would emphasize the impossibility of entering upon such exhaust-
less topics. Probably the very general assumption wUl be correct in most cases,
that genres of mediaeval poetry (e.g. the Conflicts or DSbats in Latin and Old
French) revert to antecedents sufficiently marked for identification, in the antique
Latin (or Greek) poetry, or in the (extant or lost) productions of the " low "
Latin period from the third century downward. An idea of the difficulty and
range of such matters may be gained from Jeanroy, Les Origines de la poSsie
lyrique en France au moyen Sge (Paris, 1889), and the admirable review of this
work by Gaston Paris in the Journal des savants for 1891 and 1892 (four articles).
Cf. also Batiouchkof in Romania, xx. (1891), pages i sqq. and 513 sqq.
' Cf. Taylor, Classical Heritage of the Middle Ages, chap. ix.
cHAP.xxxm MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 217
theless, the simpler metres were cultivated successfully by
the best scholars of the twelfth century.
Most of the Latin poetry of the Carolingian period was
metrical, if we are to judge from the mass that remains.
Reminiscence of the antique enveloped educated men, with
whom the mediaeval spirit had not reached distinctness of
thought and feeUng, So the poetry resembled the contem-
porary sculpture and painting, in which the antique was
still unsuperseded by any new style. Following the antique
metres, using antique phrase and commonplace, often copy-
ing antique sentiment, this poetry was as dull as might be
expected from men who were amused by calling each other
Homer, Virgil, Horace, or David. Usually the poets were
ecclesiastics, and interested in theology ; ^ but many of the
pieces are conventionally profane in topic, and as humanistic
as the Latin poetry of Petrarch. ^ Moreover, just as Petrarch's
Latin poetry was still-bom, while his Italian sonnets live, so
the Carolingian poetry, when it forgets itself and falls away
from metre to accentual verse, gains some degree of life. At
this early period the Romance tongues were not a fit poetic
vehicle, and consequently living thoughts, which with Dante
and Petrarch found voice in Italian, in the ninth century
began to stammer in Latin verses that were freed from the
dead rules of quantity, and were already vibrant with a vital
feeling for accent and rhyme. ^
Through the tenth century metrical composition became
rougher, yet sometimes drew a certain force from its rudeness.
A good example is the famous Waltarius, or Waltharilied, of
Ekkehart of St. Gall, composed in the year 960 as a school
exercise.* The theme was a German story found in ver-
nacular poetry. Ekkehart's hexameters have a strong Teuton
flavour, and doubtless some of the vigour of his paraphrase
was due to the German original.
^ There is much verse from noted men, Alcuin, Paulus Diaconus, Walafrid
Strabo, Rabanus Maurus, Theodulphus. It is all to be found in the collection of
Diimmler and Traube, Poetae Latini aevi Carolini (Mon. Germ. 1880-1896).
^ It is amusing to find a poem by Walafrid Strabo turning up as a favourite
among sixteenth - century humanists. The poem referred to, " De cultura
hortorum " [Poet. Lat. aev. Car. ii. 335-350), is a poetic treatment of gardening,
reminiscent of the Georgics, but not imitating their structure. It has many
allusions to pagan mythology.
^ Post, p. 222 sqq. * Ante, Vol. I., p. 147.
2i8 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
The metrical poems of the eleventh century have been
spoken of already, especially the more interesting ones
written in Italy. ^ Most of the Latin poetry emanating from
that classic land was metrical, or so intended. Frequently
it tells the story of wars, or gives the Gesta of notable lives,
making a kind of versified biography. One feels as if verse
was employed as a refuge from the dead annalistic form.
This poetry was a semi-barbarizing of the antique, without
new formal or substantial elements. Italy, one may say,
hardly became essentially and creatively mediaeval : the
pressure of antique survival seems to have barred original
development ; Italians took little part in the great mediaeval
military religious movements, the Crusades ; no strikingly
new architecture arose with them ; their first vernacular
poetry was an imitation or a borrowing from Provence and
France ; and by far the greater part of their Latin poetry
presents an uncreative barbarizing of the antique metres.
These remarks find illustration in the principal Latin
poems composed in Italy in the twelfth century. Among
them one observes differences in skill, knowledge, and
tendency. Some of the writers made use of leonine
hexameters, others avoided the rhyme. But they were all
akin in lack of excellence and originality both in composition
and verse-form. There was the monk Donizo of Canossa,
who wrote the Vita of the great Countess Matilda ; ^ there
was William of Apulia, Norman in spirit if not in blood,
who wrote of the Norman conquests in Apulia and Sicily ; '
also the anonymous and barbarous De hello et excidio urbis
1 Ante, Chapter XI., in.
^ The following leonine hexameters are attributed to Donizo :
" Chrysopolis dudum Graecorum dicitur usu,
Aurea sub lingua sonat haec Urbs esse Latina,
Scilicet Urbs Parma, quia grammatica manet alta,
Artes ac septem studiose sunt ibi lectae."
Muratori, Antiquitates, iii. p. 912.
^ William was a few years older than Donizo, and died about the year iioo.
His hero is Robert Guiscard, and his poem closes with this bid for the favour of
his son, Roger :
" Nostra, Rogere, tibi cognoscis carmina scribi,
Mente tibi laeta studuit parere Poeta :
Semper et auctores hilares meruere datores ;
Tu duce Romano Dux dignior Octaviano,
Sis mihi, quaeso, boni spes, ut fuit ille Maroni."
Muratori, Scriptores, v. 247-248.
cHAP.xxxm MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 219
Comensis, in which is told the destruction of Gomo by Milan
between 1118 and 1127 ; ^ then the metrically jingling
Pisan chronicle narrating the conquest of the island of
Majorca, and beginning (like the Aeneid !) with
" Anna, rates, populum vindictam coelitus octam
Scribimus, ac duros terrae pelagique labores;" ^
We also note Peter of Ebulo, with his narrative in
laudation of the emperor Henry VI., written about 1194 ;
Henry of Septimella and his elegies upon the checkered
fortunes of divers great men ; ^ and lastly the more famous
Godfrey of Viterbo, of probable German blood, and notary
or scribe to three successive emperors, with his cantafable
Pantheon or Memoria saecularum^ Godfrey's poetry is
rhymed after a manner of his own.
In the North, or more specifically speaking in the land
of France north of the Loire, the twelfth century brought
better metrical poetry than in Italy. Yet it had something
of the deadness of imitation, since the vis vivida of song had
passed over into rhyming verse. Still from the academic
point of view, metre was the proper vehicle of poetry ; as
one sees, for instance, in the Ars versificatoria of Matthew
of Vendome,^ written toward the close of the twelfth century.
" Versus est metrica descriptio," says he, and then elaborates
his, for the most part borrowed, definition : "Verse is metrical
description proceeding concisely and line by line through
the comely marriage of words to flowers of thought, and
containing nothing trivial or irrelevant." A neat conception
this of poetry ; and the same writer denounces leonine
rhyming as unseemly, but praises the favourite metre of
the Middle Ages, the elegiac ; for he regards the hexameter
and pentameter as together forming the perfect verse. It
was in this metre that Hildebert wrote his almost classic
^ Mxiratori, Script, v. 407-457.
^ Muratori, Script, vi. 110-161 ; also in Migne.
' Written at the close of the twelfth century. On these people see Ronca,
Cultura medioevale e poesia Latina d! Italia (Rome, 1892).
* Muratori, vii. pp. 349-482 ; Waitz, Mon. Germ. xxii. 1-338. Godfrey lived
from about 1120 to the close of the century. The Pantheon was completed in
1 185. Of. L. Delisle, Instructions du comitS des travaux historiques, etc. ; LittSrature
Mine, p. 41 (Paris, 1890).
* Matthaei Vindocinensis ars versificatoria, L. Bourgain (Paris, 1879).
2 20 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
elegy over the ruins of Rome. A few lines have been
quoted from it ; ^ but the whole poem, which is not long, is
of interest as one of the very best examples of a mediaeval
Latin elegy :
" Par tibi, Roma, nihil, cum sis prope tota ruina ;
Quam magni fueris integra fracta doces.
Longa tuos fastus aetas destruxit, et arces
Caesaris et superum templa palude jacent.
Ille labor, labor ille ruit quem dirus Araxes
Et stantem tremuit et cecidisse dolet ;
Quem gladii regum, quem provida cura senatus,
Quem superi rerum constituere caput ;
Quem magis optavit cum crimine solus habere
Caesar, quam socius et pius esse socer.
Qui, crescens studiis tribus, hostes, crimen, amicos
Vi domuit, secuit legibus, emit ope ;
In quem, dum fieret, vigilavit cura priorum :
Juvit opus pietas hospitis, unda, locus.
Materiem, fabros, expensas axis uterque
Misit, se muris obtulit ipse locus.
Expendere duces thesauros, fata favorem.
Artifices studium, totus et orbis opes.
Urbs cecidit de qua si quicquam dicere dignum
Moliar, hoc potero dicere : Roma fuit.
Non tamen annorum series, non flamma, nee ensis
Ad plenum potuit hoc abolere decus.
Cura hominum potuit tantam componere Romam
Quantam non potuit solvere cura deum.
Confer opes marmorque novum superumque favorem,
Artificum vigilent in nova facta manus,
Non tamen aut fieri par stanti machina muro,
Aut restaurari sola ruina potest.
Tantum restat adhuc, tantum ruit, ut neque pars stans
Aequari possit, diruta nee refici.
Hie superum formas superi mirantur et ipsi,
Et cupiunt fictis vultibus esse pares.
Non potuit natura deos hoc ore creare
Quo miranda deum signa creavit homo.
Vultus adest his numinibus, potiusque coluntur
Artificum studio quam deitate sua.
Urbs felix, si vel dominis urbs ilia careret,
Vel dominis esset turpe carere fide."^
The elegiac metre was used by Abaelard in his didactic
1 Ante, Chapter XXXI., in.
^ Text from Haureau, Les Melanges poetiques (THildebert de Lavardin, p. 60 ;
also in Notices des manuscrits de la bih. nat. t. 28, and part (1878), p. 331.
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 221
poem to his son Astralabius,^ and by John of Salisbury in
his Entheticus. The hexameter also was a favourite measure,
used, for instance, by Alanus of Lille in the Antidaudianus,
perhaps the noblest of mediaeval narrative or allegorical
poems in Latin. ^ Another excellent composition in hexa-
meter was the Alexandreis of Walter, bom, like Alanus,
apparently at Lille, but commonly called of Chatillon. As
poets and as classical scholars, these two men were worthy
contemporaries. Walter's poem follows, or rather enlarges
upon the Life of Alexander by Quintus Curtius.^ He is
said to have written it on the challenge of Matthew of
Vendome, him of the Ars versificatona. The Ligurinus of
a certain Cistercian Gunther is still another good example
of a long narrative poem in hexameters. It sets forth
the career of Frederick Barbarossa, and was written shortly
after the opening of the thirteenth century. Its author,
like Walter and Alanus, shows himself widely read in the
Classics.*
The sapphic was a third not infrequently attempted
metre, of which the De planctu naturae of Alanus contains
examples. This work was composed in the form of the De
consolatione philosophiae of Boethius, where Ijnrics alternate
with prose. The general topic was Nature's complaint over
man's disobedience to her laws. The author apostrophizes
her in the following sapphics :
" O Dei proles, genitrixque rerum,
Vinculum mundi, stabilisque nexus.
Gemma terrenis, speculum caducis,
Lucifer orbis.
Pax, amor, virtus, regimen, potestas,
Ordo, lex, finis, via, dux, origo.
Vita, lux, splendor, species, figura
Regula mundi.
1 Haureau gives a critical text of the Carmen ad Astralabium filium in Notices
et extraits, etc., 34, part ii., p. 153 sqq. Other not unpleasing instances of elegiac
verse are afforded by the poems of Baudri, Abbot of Bourgueil (d. 1130). They
are occasional and fugitive pieces — nugae, if we will. See L. Delisle, Romania,
i. 22-50.
^ The substance of this poem has been given ante. Chapter XXX. On Alanus
see also post. Chapter XXXVII., in.
^ It is printed in Migne 209. Cf. post, p. 259, note i.
* The Ligurinus is printed in tome 212 of Migne's Patrol. Lat. On its author
see Pannenborg, Forschungen zur deutschen Geschichte, Band ii. pp. 161-301, and
Band xiii. pp. 225-331 (Gottingen, 1871 and 1873).
2 22 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
Quae tuis mundum moderas habenis,
Cuncta concordi stabilita nodo
Nectis et pacis glutino maritas
Coelica terris.
Quae noys {vovs) plures recolens idesis
Singulas rerum species monetans,
Res togas formis, chlamidemque formae
PoUice forraas.
Cui favet coelum, famulatur aer,
Quam colit Tellus, veneratur unda,
Cui velut mundi dominae tributum
Singula solvunt.
Quae diem nocti vicibus catenans
Cereum solis tribuis diei,
Lucido lunae speculo soporans
Nubila noctis.
Quae polum, stellis variis inauras,
Aetheris nostri solium serenans
Siderum gemmis, varioque coelum
Milite complens.
Quae novis coeli faciem figuris
Protheans mutas aridumque vulgus
Aeris nostri regione donans,
Legeque stringis.
Cujus ad nutum juvenescit orbis,
Silva crispatur foUi capillo,
Et tua florum tunicata veste,
Terra superbit.
Quae minas ponti sepelis, et auges,
Syncopans cursum pelagi furori
Ne soli tractum tumulare possit
Aequoris aestus." ^
Practically all of our examples have been taken from
works composed in the twelfth century, and in the land
comprised under the name of France. The pre-excellence
of this period will likewise appear in accentual rhyming
Latin poetry, which was more spontaneous and living than
its loftily descended relative.
II
The academic vogue of metre in the early Middle Ages
did not prevent the growth of more natural poetry. The
^ Alanus de Insulis, De planctu naturae (Migne 210, col. 447). A translation
of the work has been made by D. M. Moffat (New York, 1908). For other
examples of Sapphic and Alcaic verses see Haureau in Notices et extraits, etc., 31
(2), p. 165 sqq.
cHAP.xxxm MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 223
Irish had their GaeUc poems ; people of Teutonic speech had
their rough verse based on aUiteration and the count of the
strong syllables. The Romance tongues emerging from
the common Latin were as yet poetically untried. But in
the proper Latin, which had become as unquantitative and
accentual as any of its vulgar forms, there was a tonic poetry
that was no longer unequipped with rhyme.
Three rhythmic elements made up this natural mode of
Latin versification : the succession of accented and un-
accented syllables ; the number of syllables in a line ; and
that regularly recurring sameness of sound which is called
rhyme. The source of the first of these seems obvious.
Accent having driven quantity from speech, came to super-
sede it in verse, with the accented syllable taking the place
of the long syllable and the unaccented the place of the short.
In the Carolingian period accentual verse followed the old
metrical forms, with this exception : the metrical principle
that one long is equivalent to two shorts was not adopted.
Consequently the number of syllables in the successive lines of
an accentual strophe would remain the same, where in the
metrical antecedent they might have varied. This is also
sufficient to account for the second element, the observance
of regularity in the number of syllables. For this regularity
seems to follow upon the acceptance of the principle that in
rhythmic verse an accented syllable is not equal to two
unaccented ones. The query might perhaps be made why
this Latin accentual verse did not take up the principle of
regularity in the number of strong syllables in a line, like
Old High German poetry for example, where the number of
unaccented syllables, within reasonable limits, is indifferent.
A ready answer is that these Latin verses were made by
people of Latin speech who had been acquainted with
metrical forms of poetry, in which the number of syllables
might vary, but was never indifferent ; for the metrical rule
was rigid that one long was equivalent to two short ; and to
no more and no less. Hence the short syllables were as
fixed in number as the long.^
^ Wilhelm Meyer, a leading authority upon mediaeval Latin verse-structure,
derives the principle of a like number of syllables in every line from eastern
Semitic influence upon the early Christians. See Fragmenfa Burana (Berlin,
224 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
The origin of the third element, rhyme, is in dispute.
In some instances it may have passed into Greek and Latin
verses from Syrian hymns. ^ But on the other hand it had
long been an occasional element in Greek and Latin
rhetorical prose. Probably rhyme in Latin accentual verse
had no specific origin. It gradually became the sharpening,
defining element of such verse. Accentual Latin lent itself
so naturally to rhyme, that had not rhyme become a fixed
part of this verse, there indeed would have been a fact to
explain.
These, then, were the elements : accent, number of
syllables, and rhyme. Most interesting is the development
of verse-forms. Rhythmic Latin poetry came through the
substitution of accent for quantity, and probably had many
prototypes in the old jingles of Roman soldiers and
provincials, which so far as known were accentual, rather
than metrical. Christian accentual poetry retained those
simple forms of iambic and trochaic verse which most readily
submitted to the change from metre to accent, or perhaps
one should say, had for centuries offered themselves as
natural forms of accentual verse. Apparently the change
from metre to accent within the old forms gradually took
place between the sixth and the tenth centuries. During
this period there was slight advance in the evolution of new
verses ; nor was the period creative in other respects, as
we have seen. But thereafter, as the mediaeval centuries
advanced from the basis of a mastered patristic and antique
heritage, and began to create, there followed an admirable
evolution of verse-forms, which in some instances apparently
issued from the old metrico-accentual forms, and in others
developed independently by virtue of the faculty of song
meeting the need of singing.
This factor wrought with power — the human need and
cognate faculty of song, a need and faculty stimulated in the
Middle Ages by religious sentiment and emotion. In the
1901), pp. 151, 166. That may have had its effect ; but I do not see the need
of any cause from afar to accoxmt for the syllabic regularity of Latin accentual
verse.
1 Again WUhelm Meyer's view : see I.e. and the same author's " Anfange
der latein. und griech. rhythmischen Dichtung," Abhar.d. der Bairiah. Akad.
Philos., philol. Klasse, 1886.
cHAP.xxxm MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 225
fusing of melody and words into an utterance of song — at last
into a strophe — music worked potently, shaping the com-
position of the lines, moulding them to rhythm, insisting upon
sonorousness in the words, promoting their assonance, and
at last compelling them to rhyme so as to meet the stress,
or mark the ending, of the musical periods. Thus the
exigencies of melody helped to evoke the finished verse,
while the words reciprocating through their vocal capabilities
and through the inspiration of their meaning, aided the
evolution of the melodies. In fine, words and melody, each
quickened by the other, and each moulding the other to
itself, attained a perfected strophic unison ; and mediaeval
musician-poets achieved at last the finished verses of hymns
or Sequences and student-songs.
There were two distinct lines of evolution of accentual
Latin verse in the Middle Ages ; and although the faculty
of song was a moving energy in both, it worked in one of
them more palpably than in the other. Along the one line,
accentual verse developed pursuant to the ancient forms,
displacing quantity with accent, and evolving rhyme. The
other line of evolution had no connection with the antique.
It began with phrases of sonorous prose, replacing inarticulate
chant. These, under the influence of music, through the
creative power of song, were by degrees transformed to
verse. The evolution of the Sequence-hymn will be the
chief illustration. With the finished accentual Latin poetry
of the twelfth century it may become impossible to tell
which line of rhjrthmic evolution holds the antecedent of a
given poem. In truth, this final and perfected verse may
often have a double ancestry, descending from the rhythms
which had superseded metre, and being also the child of
mediaeval melody. Yet there is no difficulty in tracing by
examples the two lines of evolution.
To illustrate the strain of verse which took its origin in
the displacement of metre by accent and rhjnne, we must look
back as far as Fortunatus. He was bom about the year
530 in northern Italy, but he passed his eventful life among
Franks and Thuringians. A scholar and also a poet, he
had a fair mastery of metre ; yet some of his poems evince
the spirit of the coming mediaeval time both in sentiment
VOL. II Q
226 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
and form. He wrote two famous hymns, one of them m the
popular trochaic tetrameter, the other in the equally simple
iambic dimeter. The first, a hymn to the Cross, begins with
the never-to-be-forgotten
" Pange, lingua, gloriosi proelium certaminis " ;
and has such lines as
" Crux fidelis, inter oranes arbor una nobilis
Dulce lignum, dulce clavo dulce pondus sustinens ! "
In these the mediaeval feeling for the Cross shows itself,
and whUe the metre is correct, it is so facile that one may
read or sing the lines accentually. In the other hymn, also
to the Cross, assonance and rhyme foretell the coming
transformation of metre to accentual verse. Here are the
first two stanzas :
" Vexilla regis prodeunt,
Fulget crucis mysterium,
Quo carne carnis conditor
Suspensus est patibulo.
Confixa clavis viscera
Tendens manus, vestigia
Redemtionis gratia
Hie immolata est hostia."
Passing to the Carolingian epoch, some lines from a
poem celebrating the victory of Charlemagne's son Pippin
over the Avars in 796, will illustrate the popular trochaic
tetrameter which had become accentual, and already tended
to rh5niie :
" Multa mala iam fecerunt ab antico tempore,
Fana dei destruxerunt atque monasteria,
Vasa aurea sacrata, argentea, fictilia." ^
Next we turn to a piece by the persecuted and interesting
Gottschalk, written in the latter part of the ninth century.
A young lad has asked for a poem. But how can he sing,
the exiled and imprisoned monk who might rather weep as the
Jews by the waters of Babylon ? ^ yet he will sing a hymn
^ Poet. Laf. aev. Car. i. ii6. Cf. Ebert, Gesch. etc. ii. 86. For similar verses
see those on the battle at Fontanetum (a.d. 841), Poet. Lai. aev. Car. ii. 138, and
the carmen against the town of Aquilegia, ibid. p. 150.
2 Cf. ante, Vol. I., pp. 224 sqq.
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 227
to the Trinity, and bewail his piteous lot before the highest
pitying Godhead. The verses have a lyric unity of mood,
and are touching with their sad refrain. Their rhyme, if not
quite pure, is abundant and catching, and their nearest
metrical affinity would be a trochaic dimeter.
" I. Ut quid iubes, pusiole,
quare mandas, filiole,
carmen dulce me cantare,
cum sim longe exul valde
intra mare ?
o cur iubes canere ?
2. Magis mihi, miserule,
flere libet, puerule,
plus plorare quam cantare
carmen tale, iubes quale,
amor care.
o cur iubes canere ?
3. Mallem scias, pustllule,
ut velles tu, fratercule,
pio corde condolere
milii atque prona mente
conlugere.
o cur iubes canere ?
4. Scis, divine tyruncule,
scis, superne clientule,
hie diu me exulare,
multa die sive nocte
tolerare.
o cur iubes canere ?
5. Scis captive plebicule
Israheli cognomine
praeceptum in Babilone
decantare extra longe
fines lude.
o cur iubes canere ?
6. Non potuerunt utique,
nee debuerunt itaque
carmen dulce coram gente
aliene nostri terre
resonare.
o cur iubes canere ?
7. Sed quia vis omnimode,
consodalis egregie.
228 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
canam patri filioque
simul atque procedente
ex utroque.
hoc cano ultronee.
8. Benedictus es, domine,
pater, nate, paraclite,
deus trine, deus une,
' deus summe, deus pie,
deus iuste.
hoc cano spontanee.
9. Exul ego diuscule
hoc in mare sum, domine :
annos nempe duos fere
nosti fore, sed iam iamque
miserere,
hoc rogo htimillime.
10. Interim cum pusione
psallam ore, psallam mente,
psallam voce (psallam corde)
psallam die, psaUam nocte
carmen dulce
tibi, rex piissime." ^
Gottschalk (and for this it is hard to love him) was one
of the initiators of the leonine hexameter, in which a syllable
in the middle of the line rhymes with the last syllable.
" Septeno Augustas decimo praeeunte Kalendas "
is the opening hexameter in his Epistle to his friend
Ratramnus.^ To what horrid jingle such verses could attain
may be seen from some leonine hexameter-pentameters of
two or three hundred years later, on the Fall of Troy,
beginning :
" Viribus, arte, minis, Danaum clara Troja ruinis,
Annis bis quinis fit rogus atque cinis." ^
1 Traube, Podae Lat. aevi Car. iii. p. 731. Cf. Ebert, Gesch. etc. ii. 169 and
325-
2 Poet. Lat. aev. Car. iii. 733.
^ Du MerU, Palsies populaires latines, i. 400.
Perhaps the most successful" attempt to write hexameters containing rh5nnes or
assonances is the twelfth-century poem of Bernard Morlanensis, a monk of Climy,
beginning with the famous lines :
" Hora novissima, tempora pessima sunt, vigilemus.
Ecce minaciter imminet arbiter ille supremus."
Bernard! Morlanensis, De contemptu mundi, ed. by Thos. Wright, Master of
the Rolls Series, vol. 59 (ii.), 1872. Bernard says in his Preface, as to his measures :
" Id genus metri, tum dactylum continuum exceptis finalibus, tum etiam sonori-
tatem leonicam servans. . . ."
cHAP.xxxm MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 229
Hector and Troy, and the dire wiles of the Greeks never
left the mediaeval imagination. A poem of the early tenth
century, which bade the watchers on Modena's walls be
vigilant, draws its inspiration from that unfading memory,
and for us illustrates what iambics might become when
accent had replaced quantity. The lines throughout end in
a final rhyming a.
" O tu, qui servas armis ista moenia,
Noli dormire, moneo, sed vigila.
Dum Hector vigil extitit in Troia,
Non earn cepit fraudulenta Graecia." ^
And from a scarcely later time, for it also is of the tenth
century, rise those verses to Roma, that old " Roma aurea et
etema," and forever "caput mundi," sung bypilgrim bands as
their eyes caught the first gleam of tower, church, and ruin :
" O Roma nobilis, orbis et domina,
Cunctarum urbium. excellentissima,
Roseo martyrum sanguine rubea,
Albis et virginum liliis Candida :
Salutem dicimus tibi per omnia,
Te benedicimus : salve per secula."^
This verse, which still lifts the heart of whosoever hears
or reads it, may close our examples of mediaeval verses
descended from metrical forms. It will be noticed that
all of them are from the early mediaeval centuries ; a
circumstance which may be taken as a suggestion of the
fact that by far the greater part of the earlier accentual
Latin poetry was composed in forms in which accent simply
had displaced the antique quantity.
Ill
We turn to that other genesis of mediaeval Latin verse,
arising not out of antique forms, but rather from the
mediaeval need and faculty of song. In the chief instance
selected for illustration, this line of evolution took its
1 " Carmina Mutinensia," Poet. Lat. aev. Car. iii. 703. The poem has forty-
two lines, of which the above are the first four. The usual date assigned is 924,
but Traube in Pod. aev. Car. has put it back to 892.
^ See further text and discussion in Traube, " O Roma nobilis," Abhand.
Bairish. Akad. Philos., philol. Klasse, 1891.
230 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
inception in the exigencies and inspiration of the Alleluia
chant or jubilation. During the celebration of the Mass, as
the Gradual ended in its last Alleluia, the choir continued
chanting the final syllable of that word in cadences of musical
exultings. The melody or cadence to which this final a of
the Alleluia was chanted, was called the sequentia. The
words which came to be substituted for its cadenced reitera-
tion were called the prosa. By the twelfth century the two
terms seem to have been used interchangeably. Thus arose
the prose Sequence, so plastic in its capability of being
moulded by melody to verse. Its songful qualities lay in
the sonorousness of the words and in their syllabic corre-
spondence with the notes of the melody to which they were
sung.i
In the year 860, Norsemen sacked the cloister of
Jumieges in Normandy, and a fleeing brother carried his
precious Antiphonary far away to the safe retreat of St. Gall.
There a young monk named Notker,^ poring over its
contents, perceived that words had been written in the place
of the repetitions of the final a of the Alleluia. Taking the
cue, he set to work to compose more fitting words to
correspond with the notes to which this final a was sung.
So these lines of euphonious and fitting words appear to
have had their beginning in Notker's scanning of that
fugitive Antiphonary, and his devising labour. Their primary
purpose was a musical one ; for they were a device —
mnemotechnic, if one will — to facilitate the chanting of
cadences previously vocalized with difficulty through the
singing of one simple vowel sound. Notker showed his
work to his master, Iso, who rejoiced at what his gifted
pupil had accomplished, and spurred him on by pointing
out that in his composition one syllable was stiU sometimes
repeated or drawn out through several successive notes.
One syllable to each note was the principle which Notker
now set himself to realize ; and he succeeded.
^ The verbal Sequence or prosa was thus a species of trope. Tropes were
interpolations or additions to the older text of the Liturgy. The Sequences were
the tropes appended to the last Alleluia of the Gradual, the psalm chanted in
the celebration of the Mass, between the reading of the Epistle and the Gospel.
Cf. Leon Gautier, Poesie liturgique au moyen age, chap. iii. (Paris, 1886) ; ibid.
(Euvres poctiques d'Adam de Saint Victor, p. 281 sqq. (3rd ed., Paris, 1894).
2 On Notker see Manitius, Ges. der lat. Lit. des Mittelalters, i. pp. 354-367.
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 231
He composed some fifty Sequences. In his work, as
well as in that of others after him, the device of words
began to modify and develop the melodies themselves.
Sometimes Notker adapted his verbal compositions to those
cadences or melodies to which the Alleluia had long been
sung ; sometimes he composed both melody and words ; or,
again, he took a current melody, sacred or secular, to which
the Alleluia never had been sung, and composed words for
it, to be chanted as a Sequence. In these borrowed melodies,
as well as in those composed by Notker, the musical periods
were more developed than in the Alleluia cadences. Thus
the musical growth of the Sequences was promoted by
the use of sonorous words, while the improved melodies
in turn drew the words on to a more perfect rh5rthmic
ordering.
Notker died in 912. His Sequences were prose, yet
with a certain parallelism in their construction ; and, even
with Notker in his later years, the words began to take on
assonances, chiefly in the vowel sound of a. Thereafter the
melodies, seizing upon the words, as it were, by the principle
of their syllabic correspondence to the notation, moulded
them to rhythm of movement and regularity of line ;
while conversely with the better ordering of the words for
singing, the melodies in turn made gain and progress,
and then again reacted on the words, until after two
centuries there emerged the finished verses of an Adam of
St. Victor.
Thus these Sequences have become verse before our
eyes, and we realize that it is the very central current of
the evolution of mediaeval Latin poetry that we have been
following. How free and how spontaneous was this
evolution of the Sequence. It was the child of the Christian
Middle Ages, seeing the light in the closing years of the
ninth century, but requiring a long period of growth before it
reached the glory of its climacteric. It was bom of musical
chanting, and it grew as song, never unsung or conceived of
as severable from its melody. Only as it attained its
perfected strophic forms, it necessarily made use of trochaic
and other rhythms which long before had changed from
quantity to accent and so had passed on into the verse-
232 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
making habitudes of the Middle Ages.^ If there be any
Latin composition in virtue of origin and growth absolutely
un-antique, it is the mediaeval Sequence, which in its final
forms is so glorious a representative of the mediaeval Hymn.
And we shall also see that much popular Latin poetry,
" Carmina Burana " and student-songs, were composed in
verses and often sung to tunes taken — or parodied — from
the Sequence-hymns of the Liturgy.
There were many ways of chanting Sequences. The
musical phrases of the melodies usually were repeated once,
except at the beginning and the close ; and the Sequence
would be rendered by a double choir singing antiphonally.
Ordinarily the words responded to the repetition of the
musical phrases with a parallelism of their own. The lines
(after the first) varied in length by pairs, the second and
third lines having the same number of syllables, the fourth
and fifth likewise equal to each other, but differing in
length from the second and third ; and so on through the
Sequence, until the last line, which commonly stood alone
and differed in length from the preceding pairs. The
Sequence called " Nostra tuba "is a good example. Probably
it was composed by Notker, and in his later years ; for it is
filled with assonances, and exhibits a regular parallelism of
structure.
" Nostra tuba
Regatur fortissime Dei dextra et preces audiat
Aura placatissima et serena ; ita enim nostra
Laus erit accepta, voce si quod canimus, canat pariter et pura con-
scientia.
Et, ut haec possimus, omnes divina nobis semper flagitemus adesse
auxilia.
^ On the Sequence see Leon Gautier, Poisie liturgique au moyen S,ge (Paris,
1886), passim, and especially the comprehensive summary in the notes from p. 154
to p. 159. Also see Schubiger, Die Sdngerschule St. Gallus (1858), in which many
of Notker' s Sequences are given with the music ; also v. Winterfeld, " Die Dichter-
schule St. Gallus und Reichenau," Neue Jahrbiicher f. d. klassisch. Altertum,
Bd. V. (1900), p. 341 sqq.
The present writer has foxmd WUhelm Meyer's Fragmenta Burana (Berlin,
1901) most suggestive ; and in all matters pertaining to mediaeval Latin verse-
forms, use has been made of the same writer's exhaustive study : " Ludus de
Antichristo und iiber lat. Rythmen," Sitzungsber. Bairisch. Akad. Philos., philol.
Klasse, 1882. See also Ch. Thurot, " Notices, etc., de divers MSS. latins pour
servir a I'histoire des doctrines grammaticales au moyen age," in vol. xxii. (2) of
Notices et extraits des MSS. pp. 417-457.
cHAP.xxxm MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 233
O bone Rex, pie, juste, misericors, qui es via et janua,
Portas regni, quaesumus, nobis reseres, dimittasque facinora
Ut laudemus nomen nunc tuum atque per cuncta saecula." ^
Here, after the opening, the first pair has seventeen
syllables, and the next pair twenty-six. The last pair
quoted has twenty ; and the final line of seventeen syllables
has no fellow. A further rhythmical advance seems reached
by the following Sequence from the abbey of St. Martial at
Limoges. It may have been written in the eleventh century.
It is .given here with the first and second line of the couplets
opposite to each other, as strophe and antistrophe ; and the
lines themselves are divided to show the assonances (or
rhymes) which appear to have corresponded with pauses in
the melody :
" (i) Canat omnis turba
{2a) Fonte renata
(2fc) Laude jucunda
Spiritusque gratia
et mente perspicua
(3a) Jam restituta
(3&) Sicque jactura
pars est decima
coelestis ilia
fuerat quae culpa
completur in laude
perdita.
divina.
(4ffl) Ecce praeclara
(4&) Enitet ampla
dies dominica
per orbis spatia.
(5fl) Exsultat in qua
(5&) Quia destructa
plebs omnis redempta,
mors est perpetua." ^
A Sequence of the eleventh century will afford a final
illustration of approach to a regular strophic structure, and
of the use of the final one-syllable rhyme in a, throughout
the Sequence :
^ " May our trumpet be guided mightily by God's right hand, and may the
calm and tranquil air hear our prayers ! for our praise will be accepted if what
we sing with the voice a pure conscience sings likewise. And that we may be
able, let us all beseech divine aid to be always present with us. ... O good King,
kind, just, and pitying, who art the way and the door, unlock the gates of the
kingdom for us, we beg, and pardon our offences, that we may praise thy name
now and through all the ages."
* G. M. Dreves, " Die Prosen der Abtei St. Martial zu Limoges," p. 59 (vol.
vii. of Dreves's Analecta hymnica medii aevi ; Leipzig, 1889). " Let every band
sing with fount renewed and the Spirit's grace with joyful praise and clear mind.
Now is made good the tenth part [i.e. the fallen angels], undone by fault ; and
thus that celestial fall is made good in divine praise. Lo ! the bright day of the
Lord gleams through the broad spaces of the world : in which all the redeemed
people exult because everlasting death is destroyed."
234 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND
" Alleluia,
Tunna, proclama leta ;
Laude canora,
Facta prome divina.
Jam instituta
Superna disciplina.
Christi sacra
Per magnalia
Es quia de morte liberata
Ut destructa
Inferni claustra
Januaque celi patefacta !
3
Jam nunc omnia
Celestia
Terrestria
Virtute gubernat eterna.
In quibus sua
Judicia
Semper equa
Dat auctoritate paterna."
1
As the eleventh century closed and the great twelfth
century dawned, the forces of mediaeval growth quickened
to a mightier vitality, and distinctively mediaeval creations
appeared. Our eyes, of course, are fixed upon the northern
lands, where the Sequence grew from prose to verse, and
where derivative or analogous forms of popular poetry
developed also. Up to this time, throughout mediaeval
life and thought, progress had been somewhat uncrowned
with palpable achievement. Yet the first brilliant creations
of a master-workman are the fruit of his apprentice years,
during which his progress has been as real as when his
works begin to make it visible. So it was no sudden birth
1 Published by Boucherie, " Melanges Latins, etc.," Revue des langues romanes,
t. vii. (1875), p. 35.
" Alleluia ! O flock, proclaim joy ; with melodious praise utter deeds divine
now fixed by heavenly teaching. Because thou art freed from death through the
holy works of Christ, how are the gates of hell destroyed and heaven's doors
opened. Now He rules all things celestial and terrestrial by eternal power ;
wherein by the Father's authority He gives judgments always just."
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 235
of power, but rather faculties ripening through apprentice
centuries, that illumined the period opening about the year
1 100. This period would carry no human teaching if
its accomplishment in institutions, in philosophy, in art
and poetry, had been a heaven-blown accident, and not the
fruit of antecedent discipline.
The poetic advance represented by the Sequences of
Adam of St. Victor may rouse our admiration for the poet's
genius, but should not blind our eyes to the continuity of
development leading to it. Adam is the final artist and his
work a veritable creation ; yet his antecedents made part of
his creative faculty. The elements of his verses and the
general idea and form of the sequence were given him ; — all
honour to the man's holy genius which made these into
poems. The elements referred to consisted in accentual
measures and in the two -syllabled Latin rhyme which
appears to have been finally achieved by the close of the
eleventh century. ^ In using them Adam was no borrower,
but an artist who perforce worked in the medium of his art.
Trochaic and iambic rhythms then constituted the chief
measures for accentual verse, as they had for centuries, and
do stiU. For, although accentual rhythms admit dactyls
and anapaests, these have not proved generally serviceable.
Likewise the inevitable progress of Latin verse had developed
assonances into rhymes ; and indeed into rhymes of two
syllables, for Latin words lend themselves as readily to
rhymes of two syllables as English words to rhymes of one.
There existed also the idea and form of the Sequence,
consisting of pairs of lines which had reached assonance and
some degree of rhythm, and varied in length, pair by pair,
following the music of the melodies to which they were
sung. For the Sequence-melody did not keep to the same
recurring tune throughout, but varied from couplet to
couplet. In consequence, a Sequence by Adam of St.
Victor may contain a variety of verse-forms. Moreover, a
number of the Sequences of which he may have been the
author show survivals of the old rh5rthmical irregularities,
and of assonance as yet unsuperseded by pure rhyme.
^ See Gautier, Poesie liturgique, p. 147 sqq. It came somewhat earlier in
Italy. See Ronca, Cultura medioevale, etc., p. 348 sqq. (Rome, 1892).
2 36 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
Before giving examples of Adam's poems, a tribute
should be paid to his great forerunner in the art of Latin
verse. Adam doubtless was familiar with the hymns ^ of
the most brilliant intellectual luminary of the departing
generation, one Peter Abaelard, whom he may have seen
in the flesh. Those once famous love-songs written for
Heloise, perished (so far as we know) with the love they
sang. Another fate — and perhaps Abaelard wished it so —
was in store for the many hymns which he wrote for his
sisters in Christ, the abbess and her nuns. They still exist,^
and display a richness of verse-forms scarcely equalled even
by the Sequences of Adam. In the development of Latin
verse, Abaelard is Adam's immediate predecessor ; his verses
being, as it were, just one stage inferior to Adam's in
sonorousness of line, in certainty of rhythm, and in purity of
rhyme.
The " prose " Sequences were not the direct antecedents
of Abaelard's hymns. Yet both sprang from the freely
devising spirit of melody and song ; and therefore those
hymns are of this free-born lineage more truly than they are
descendants of antique forms. To be sure, every possible
accentual rhythm, built as it must be of trochees, iambics,
anapaests, or dactyls, has unavoidably some antique
quantitative antecedent ; because the antique measures
exhausted the possibilities of syllabic combination. Yet
antecedence is not source, and most of Abaelard's verses by
their form and spirit proclaim their genesis in the creative
exigencies of song as loudly as they disavow any antique
parentage.
For example, there may be some far echo of metrical
dactyls in the following accentual and rhyme-harnessed
twelve-syllable verse :
" Advenit Veritas, umbra praeteriit,
Post noctera claritas diei subiit,
1 While Sequences may be called hymns, all hymns are not Sequences. For
the hymn is the general term designating a verbal composition sung in praise
of God or His saints. A Sequence then would be a hymn having a peculiar
history and a certain place in the Liturgy.
* Contained in Migne 178, col. 1771 sqq. They have not been properly edited
or even fully published.
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 237
Ad ortum rutilant supemi luminis
Legis mysteria plena caliginis."
But the echo if audible is faint, and surely no antique whisper
is heard in
" Est in Rama
Vox audita
Rachel flentis
Super natos
Interfectos
Ejulantis."
Nor in
" Golias prostratus est,
Resurrexit Dominus,
Ense jugulatus est
Hostis proprio ;
Cum suis submersus est
lUe Pharao."
The variety of Abaelard's verse seems endless. One or
two further examples may or may not suggest any ante-
cedents in those older forms of accentual verse which
followed the former metres :
" Ornarunt terram germina,
Nunc caelum luminaria.
Sole, luna, stellis depingitur.
Quorum multus usus cognoscitur."
In this verse the first two lines are accentual iambic
dimeters ; while the last two begin each with two trochees,
and close apparently with two dactyls. The last form of
line is kept throughout in the following :
" Gaude virgo virginum gloria,
Matrum decus et mater, jubila.
Quae commune sanctorum omnium
Meruisti conferre gaudium."
Next come some simple five-syllable lines, with a catch-
ing rhyme :
" Lignum amaras
Indulcat aquas
Eis immissum.
Omnes agones
Sunt Sanctis dulces
Per crucifixum."
2 38 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
In the following lines of ten syllables a dactyl appears
to follow a trochee twice in each line :
" Tuba Domini, Paule, maxima,
De caelestibus dans tonitrua,
Hostes dissipans, cives aggrega.
^ Doctor gentium es praecipuus,
Vas in poculum factus omnibus,
Sapientiae plenum haustibus."
These examples of Abaelard's rhythms may close with
the following curiously complicated verse :
" Tu quae carnem edomet
Abstinentiam,
Tu quae carnem decoret
Continentiam,
Tu velle quod bonum est his ingeris
Ac ipsum perficere tu tribuis.
Instrumenta
Sunt his tua
Per quos mira peragis,
Et humana
Moves corda
Signis et prodigiis. "
In general, one observes in these verses that Abaelard
does not use a pure two-syllable rhyme. The rhyme is
always pure in the last syllable, and in the penult may
either exist as a pure rhyme or simply as an assonance, or
not at all.^
Probably Abaelard wrote his hymns in 1130, perhaps
the very year when Adam as a youth entered the convent
of St. Victor, lying across the Seine from Paris. The latter
appears to have lived until 11 92. Many Sequences have
been improperly ascribed to him, and among the doubtful ones
are a number having affinities with the older types. These
may be anterior to Adam ; for the greater part of his
unquestionable Sequences are perfected throughout in their
versification. Yet, on the other hand, one would expect
some progression in works composed in the course of a long
^ Reference should also be made to the six laments (planctus) composed
by Abaelard (Migne 178, col. 1817-1823). They are powerful elegies, and exhibit
a richness and variety of poetic measures. It may be mentioned that the pure
two-syllable rhyme is found in hymns ascribed to Saint Bernard.
cHAP.xxxiii MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 239
life devoted to such composition — a life covering a period
when progressive changes were taking place in the world of
thought beyond St. Victor's walls. We take three examples
of these Sequences. The first contains occasional assonance
in place of rhyme, and uses many rhymes of one syllable.
It appears to be an older composition improperly ascribed
to Adam. The second is unquestionably his, in his most
perfect form ; the third may or may not be Adam's ; but is
given for its own sake as a lovely 13010.^
The first example, probably written not much later than
the year iioo, was designed for the Mass at the dedication
of a church. The variety in the succession of couplets and
strophes indicates a corresponding variation in the melody.
Clara chorus dulce pangat voce nunc alleluia.
Ad aeterni regis laudem qui gubemat omnia !
2
Cui nos universalis sociat Ecclesia,
Scala nitens et pertingens ad poli fastigia ;
3
Ad honorem cujus laeta psallamus melodia,
Persolventes hodiernas laudes illi debitas.
4
O felix aula, quam vicissim
Confrequentant agmina coelica,
Divinis verbis altematim
Jungentia mellea cantica !
5
Domus haec, de qua vetusta sonuit historia
Et moderna protestatur Christum fari pagina
' Quoniam elegi earn thronum sine macula,
' Requies haec erit mea per aeterna saecula.
Turris supra montem sita,
Indissolubili bitumine fundata
Vallo perenni munita,
Atque aurea co'umna
1 Leon Gautier, the editor of the (Euvres poitiques d'Adam de Saint-Victor,
in his third edition of 1894, has thrown out from among Adam's poems our first
and third examples. On Adam see ante, Chapter XXX., ir.
240 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND
Miris ac variis lapidibus distincta,
Stylo subtili polita 1
7
Ave, mater praeelecta,
Ad quam Christus fatur ita
Prophetae facundia :
V ' Sponsa mea speciosa,
' Inter filias formosa,
' Supra solem splendida !
8
' Caput tuum ut Carmelus
' Et ipsius comae tinctae regis uti purpura ;
' Oculi ut columbarum,
' Genae tuae punicorum ceu malorum fragmina !
9
' Mel et lac sub lingua tua, favus stillans labia ;
' Collum tuum ut columna, turris et eburnea !'
Ergo nobis Sponsae tuae
Famulantibus, o Chris te, pietate solita
Clemens adesse dignare
Et in tuo salutari nos ubique visita.
II
Ipsaque mediatrice, summe rex, perpetue.
Voce pura
Flagitamus, da gaudere Paradisi gloria.
AUeluia ! " i
The second example is Adam's famous Sequence for '
St. Stephen's Day, which faUs on the day after Christmas.
It is throughout sustained and perfect in versification, and
in substance a splendid hymn of praise.
" Heri mundus exultavit
Et exultans celebravit
Christi natalitia ;
Heri chorus angelorum
Prosecutus est coelorum
Regem cum laetitia.
Gautier, CEuvres poetiques d'A^dffP 4f Saint-Vigtor, i. 174.
cHAP.xxxni MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 241
Protomartyr et levita,
Clarus fide, clarus vita,
Clarus et miraculis,
Sub hac luce triumphavit
Et triumphans insultavit
Stephanus incredulis.
3
Fremunt ergo tanquam ferae
Quia victi defecere
Lucis adversarii :
Falsos testes statuunt
Et linguas exacuunt
Viperarum filii.
4
Agonista, nuUi cede,
Certa certus de mercede,
Persevera, Stephane ;
Insta falsis testibus,
Confuta sermonibus
Synagogam Satanae.
5
Testis tuus est in coelis.
Testis verax et fidelis.
Testis innocentiae.
Nomen habes coronati :
Te tormenta decet pati
Pro corona gloriae.
6
Pro corona non marcenti
Perfer brevis vim tormenti ;
Te manet victoria.
Tibi fiet mors natalis,
Tibi poena terminalis
Dat vitae primordia.
7
Plenus Sancto Spiritu,
Penetrat intuitu
Stephanus coelestia.
Videns Dei gloriam,
Crescit ad victoriam,
Suspirat ad praemia.
VOL. II
242 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND
8
En a dextris Dei stantem,
Jesum pro te dimicantem,
Stephane, considera :
Tibi coelos reserari,
Tibi Christum revelari,
, Clama voce libera.
9
Se commendat Salvatori,
Pro quo dulce ducit mori
Sub ipsis lapidibus.
Saulus servat omnium
Vestes lapidantium,
Lapidans in omnibus.
Ne peccatum statuatur
His a quibus lapidatur.
Genu ponit, et precatur,
Condolens insaniae.
In Christo sic obdormivit,
Qui Christo sic obedivit,
Et cum Christo semper vivit.
Martyr um primitiae."
1
The last example, in honour of St. Nicholas's Day, is a
lovely poem by whomsoever written. Its verses are extremely
diversified. It begins with somewhat formal chanting of the
saint's virtues, in dignified couplets. Suddenly it changes to
a joyful lyric, and sings of a certain sweet sea-miracle wrought
by Nicholas. Then it spiritualizes the conception of his
saintly aid to meet the call of the sin-tossed soul. It closes
in stately manner in harmony with its liturgical function.
I
" Congaudentes exultemus vocali concordia
Ad beati Nicolai festiva solemnia !
Qui in cunis adhuc jacens servando jejunia
A papilla coepit summa promereri gaudia.
3
Adolescens amplexatur litterarum studia,
Alienus et immunis ab omni lascivia.
^ Gautier, o.c. 3rd edition, p. 87.
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 243
4
Felix confessor, cujus fuit dignitatis vox de coelo nuntia !
Per quam provectus, praesulatus sublimatur ad summa fastigia.
5
Erat in ejus animo pietas eximia,
Et oppressis impendebat multa beneficia.
Auro per eum virginum toUitur infamia,
Atque patris earumdem levatur inopia.
7
Quidam nautae navigantes,
Et contra fluctuum saevitiam luctantes,
Navi pane dissoluta,
Jam de vita desperantes.
In tanto positi periculo, claraantes
Voce dicunt omnes una :
' O beate Nicolae,
Nos ad maris portum trahe
De mortis angustia.
Trahe nos ad portum maris,
Tu qui tot auxiliaris,
Pietatis gratia.'
9
Dum clamarent, nee incassum,
' Ecce ' quidam dicens, ' assum
Ad vestra praesidia.'
Statim aura datur grata
Et tempestas fit sedata :
Quieverunt maria.
10
Nos, qui sumus in hoc mundo,
Vitiorum in profundo
Jam passi naufragia,
Gloriose Nicolae
Ad salutis portum trahe,
Ubi pax et gloria.
lUam nobis unctionem
Impetres ad Dominum,
Prece pia,
244 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND
Qua sanavit laesionem
Multorum peccaminum
In Maria.
Hujus festum celebrantes gaudeant per saecula,
Et coronet eos Christus post vitae curricula 1 " ^
The foregoing examples of religious poetry may be
supplemented by illustrations of the parallel evolution of
more profane if not more popular verse. Any priority in
time, as between the two, should lie with the former ; though
it may be the truer view to find a general synchronism in
the secular and religious phases of lyric growth. But
priority of originality and creativeness certainly belongs to
that line of lyric evolution which sprang from religious
sentiments and emotions. For the vagrant clerkly poet of
the Court, the roadside, and the inn, used the forms of verse
fashioned by the religious muse in the cloister and the school.
Thus the development of secular Latin verse presents a
derivative parallel to the essentially primary evolution of the
Sequence or the hymn.
It was in Germany that the composition of Sequences
was most zealously cultivated during the century following
Notker's death ; and it was in Germany that the Sequence,
in its earlier forms, exerted most palpable influence upon
popular songs. ^ In these so-caUed Modi {Modus = song), as
in the Sequence, rh5rthmical compositions may be seen
progressing in the direction of regular rhythm, rhyme, and
strophic form. As in the Sequences, the tune moulded the
words, which in turn influenced the melody. The following
1 Gautier, o.c. ist edition, i. 201.
^ Did the Sequence exert an influence upon Hrotsvitha, the tiresome but
unquestionably immortal nun of Gandersheim, who floiirished in the middle and
latter part of the tenth century ? She wrote narrative poems, like the Gesta
Ottonis (Otto I.) in leonine hexameters. Her pentameter lines also conunonly
have a word in the middle rhy min g with the last syllable of the line. But it is
in those famous pious plays of hers, formed after the models of Terence, that we
may look for a kind of writing corresponding to that which was to progress to
clearer form in the Sequence. Without discussing to what extent the Latin of
these plays may be called rhythmical, one or two things are clear. It is filled
with assonances and rude rhymes, usually of one syllable. It has no clear verse-
structure, and the utterances of the dramatis personae apparently observe no
regularity in the number of syllables, such as lines of verse require. Cf. her
Opera ed. Winterfeld, Scriptores Rerum Germanicorum (Berlin, 1902) ; also
Manitius, Ges. der lat. Lit. des Mittelalters, i. pp. 619-632.
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 245
is from the Modus Ottinc, a popular song composed about
the year 1000 in honour of a victory of Otto III. over the
Hungarians :
" His incensi bella fremunt, anna poscunt, hostes vocant, signa
secuntur, tubis canunt.
Clamor passim oritur et milibus centum Theutones inmiscentur.
Pauci cedunt, plures cadunt, Francus instat, Parthus fugit ; vulgus
exangue undis obstat ;
Licus rubens sanguine Danubio cladem Parthicam ostendebat."
Another example is the Modus fiorum of approximately
the same period, a song about a king who promised his
daughter to whoever could tell such a lie as to force the
king to call him a liar. It opens as follows :
" Mendosam quam cantilenam ago,
puerulis commendatam dabo,
quo modules per mendaces risum
auditoribus ingentem ferant.
Liberalis et decora
cuidam regi erat nata
quam sub lege hujusmodi
procis opponit quaerendam."
Here the rhyme still is rude and the rhythm irregular.
The following dirge, written thirty or forty years later on
the death of the German emperor, Henry II., shows
improvement :
" Lamentemur nostra, Socii, peccata,
lamentemur et ploremus ! Quare tacemus ?
Pro iniquitate corruimus late ;
scimus coeli hinc ofEensum regem immensum.
Heinrico requiem, rex Christe, dona perennem." ^
We may pass on into the twelfth century, still following
the traces of that development of popular verse which
paralleled the evolution of the Sequence. We first note
'^ For these and other songs, written after the maimer of Sequences, see Du
Meril, Poesies pop. lot. i. p. 273 sqq. They are also printed by Piper ia Nachtrdge
zur dlteren deutschen Lit. (Deutsche Nat. Lit.) p. 206 sqq. and p. 234 sqq. See also
W. Meyer, Fragmenta Bur ana, p. 174 sqq. and Ebert, AUgemeine Gesch, etc. ii.
343 sqq.
^ Du Meril, ihid. i. p. 285.
246 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
some catchy rhymes of a German student setting out for
Paris in quest of learning and intellectual novelty :
" Hospita in Gallia nunc me vocant studia.
Vadam ergo ; Sens a tergo socios relinquo.
Plangite discipuli, lugubris discidii tempore propinquo.
Vale, dulcis patria, suavis Suevorum Suevia !
' Salve dilecta Francia, philosophorum curia I
Suscipe discipulum in te peregrinum,
Quem post dierum circulum remittes Socratinum," ^
This Suabian, singing his uncouth Latin rhymes, and
footing his way to Paris, suggests the common, delocalized
influences which were developing a mass of student-songs,
" Carmina Burana," or " Goliardic " poetry. The authors
belonged to that large and broad class of clerks made up of
any and all persons who knew Latin. The songs circulated
through western Europe, and their home was ever5rwhere, if
not their origin. Some of them betray, as more of them do
not, the author's land and race. Frequently of diabolic
cleverness, gibing, amorous, convivial, they show the
virtuosity in rhyme of their many makers. Like the hymns
and later Sequences, they employed of necessity those
accentual measures which once had their quantitative proto-
types in antique metres. But, again like the hymns and
Sequences, they neither imitate nor borrow, but make use of
trochaic, iambic, or other rhythms as the natural and im-
avoidable material of verse. Their strophes are new
strophes, and not imitations of anything in quantitative
poetry. So these songs were free-born, and their develop-
ment was as independent of antique influence as the melodies
which ever moulded them to more perfect music. Many and
divers were their measures. But as that great strophe of
Adam's Heri mundus exultavit (the strophe of the Stabat
Mater) was of mightiest dominance among the hymns, so
for these student-songs there was also one measure that was
chief. This was the thirteen-syllable trochaic line, with its
lilting change of stress after the seventh syllable, and its pure
two-syllable rhyme. It is the line of the Confessio poetae, or
Confessio Goliae, where nests that one mediaeval Latin verse
which everybody stUl knows by heart :
1 Wil. Meyer, Fragmenta Burana, p. i8o.
cHAP.xxxin MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 247
" Meum est propositum in taberna mori,
Vinum sit appositum morientis ori.
Tunc cantabunt laetius angelorum chori,
' Sit Deus propitius huic potatori.' "
It is also the line of the quite charming Phyllis and
Flora of the Carmina Burana :
" Erant ambae virgines et ambae reginae,
Phyllis coma libera, Flora compto crine :
Non sunt formae virginum, sed formae divinae,
Et respondent facie luci matutinae." ^
Another common measure is the twelve-syllable dactylic
line of the famous Apocalypsis Goliae Episcopi :
" Ipsam Pythagorae formam aspicio,
Inscriptam artium schemate vario.
An extra corpus sit haec revelatio,
Utrum in corpora, Deus scit, nescio.
In fronte micuit ars astrologica ;
Dentium seriem regit grammatica ;
In lingua pulcrius vernat rhetorica,
Concussis aestuat in labiis logica."
An example of the not infrequent eight-syllable line is
afforded by that tremendous satire against papal Rome,
beginning :
" Propter Sion non tacebo,
Sed ruinam Romae fiebo,
Quousque justitia
Rursus nobis oriatur,
Et ut lampas accendatur
Justus in ecclesia."
Here the last line of the verse has but seven syllables*
as is the case in the following verse of four lines :
" Vinum bonum et suave,
Bonis bonum, pravis prave,
Cunctis dulcis sapor, ave,
Mundana laetitia !
But the eight-syllable lines may be kept throughout, as
in the following lament over life's lovely, pernicious charm,
so touching in its expression of the mortal heartbreak of
mediaeval monasticism :
1 The best text of the " Phillidis et Florae altercatio " is Haureau's in Notices
et extraits, 32 (i), p. 259 sqq. The same article has some other disputes or causae,
e.g. causa pauperis scholaris cum presbytero, p. 289.
248 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND
" Heu ! Heu ! mundi vita,
Quare me delectas ita ?
Cum non possis mecum stare.
Quid me cogis te amare ?
Vita mundi, res morbosa,
Magis fragilis quam rosa,
V Cum sis tota laciymosa.
Cur es mihi graciosa ? " ^
IV
Our consideration of the different styles of mediaeval
Latin prose and the many novel forms of mediaeval Latin
verse has shown how radical was the departure of the one
and the other from Cicero and Virgil. Through such
changes Latin continued to prove itself a living language.
Yet its vitality was doomed to wane before the rivalry of
the vernacular tongues. The vivida vis, the capability of
growth, had well-nigh passed from Latin when Petrarch
was born. In endeavouring to maintain its supremacy as a
literary vehicle he was to hold a losing brief, nor did he
strengthen his cause by attempting to resuscitate a classic
style of prose and metre. The victory of the vernacular
was announced in Dante's De vulgari eloquentia and
demonstrated beyond dispute in his Divina Commedia.
A long and for the most part peaceful and unconscious
conflict had led up to the victory of what might have been
deemed the baser side. For Latin was the sole mediaeval
literature that was bom in the purple, with its stately lineage
of the patristic and the classical back of it. Latin was
the language of the Roman world and the vehicle of Latin
Christianity. It was the language of the Church and its
clergy, and the language of all educated people. Naturally
'^ Du Meril, Poesies pop. lat. ii. p. io8 sqq. The piece is a cento, and its tone
changes and becomes brutal further on. The poems, from which are taken the
preceding citations, are to be found in Wright's Latin Poems commonly attributed
to Walter Mapes (London, 1841, Camden Society) ; Carmina Burana, ed. J. A.
Schmeller ; " Gedichte auf K. Friedrich I. (archipoeta)," in vol. iii. of Grimm's
Kleinere Schriften. Cf. also Hubatsch, Die lateinischen Vagantenlieder (Gorlitz,
1870). The best texts of many of these and other " Carmina Burana," and such
like poems, are to be found in the contributions of Haureau to the Notices et
extraits, etc. ; especially in tome 29 (2), pp. 231-368 ; tome 31 (i), p. 51 sqq.
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 249
the entire contents of existing and progressive Christian and
antique culture were contained in the mediaeval Latin
literature, the literature of religion and of law and govern-
ment, of education and of all serious knowledge. It was to
be the primary literature of mediaeval thought ; from which
passed over the chief part of whatever thought and
knowledge the vernacular literatures were to receive. For
scholars who follow, as we have tried to, the intellectual and
the deeper emotional life of the Middle Ages, the Latin
literature yields the incomparably greater part of the
material of our study. It has been our home country, from
which we have made casual excursions into the vernacular
literatures.
These existed, however, from the earliest mediaeval
periods, beginning, if one may say so, in oral rather than
written documents. We read that Charlemagne caused a
book to be made of Germanic poems, which till then
presumably had been carried in men's memories. The
Hildehrandslied is supposed to have been one of them.^ In
the Norse lands, the Eddas and the matter of the Sagas
were repeated from generation to generation, long before
they were written down. The habit, if not the art, of
writing came with Christianity and the Latin education
accompanying it. Gradually a written literature in the
Teutonic languages was accumulated. Of this there was
the heathen side, well represented in Anglo-Saxon and the
Norse ; while in Old High German the Hildehrandslied
remains, heathen and savage. Thereafter, a popular and
even national or rather racial poetry continued, developed,
and grew large, notwithstanding the spread of Latin
Christianity through Teutonic lands. Of this the
Niehelungenlied and the Gudrun are great examples. But
individual and still famous poets, who felt and thought as
Germans, were also composing sturdily in their vernacular
— a lack of education possibly causing them to dictate
{dictieren, dichten) rather than to write. Of these the
greatest were Wolfram von Eschenbach and Walther von
der Vogelweide. With them and after them, or following
upon the Niehelungenlied, came a mass of secular poetry,
1 Ante, Vol. I., p. 145.
2 50 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
some of which was popular and national, reflecting Germanic
story, while some of it was courtly, transcribing the courtly
poetry which by the twelfth century flourished in Old
French.
Thus bourgeoned the secular branches of German
literature. On the other hand, from the time of Christianity's
introduction, the Germans felt the need to have the new
religion presented to them in their own tongues. The
labour of translation begins with Ulfilas, and is continued
with conscientious renderings of Scripture and Latin
educational treatises, and also with such epic paraphrase
as the Heliand and the more elegiac poems of the Anglo-
Saxon Cjmewulf.^ Also, at least in Germany, there comes
into existence a full religious literature, not stoled or mitred,
but popular, non-academic, and non-liturgical ; of which
quantities remain in the Middle High German of the
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. ^
Obviously the Romance vernacular literatures had a
different commencement. The languages were Latin,
simply Latin, in their inception, and never ceased to be
legitimate continuations and developments of the popular
or Vulgar Latin of the Roman Empire. But as the speech
of children, women, and unlettered people, they were not
thought of as literary media. All who could write under-
stood perfectly the better Latin from which these popular
dialects were slowly differentiating themselves. And as
they progressed to languages, still their life and progress
lay among peoples whose ancestral tongue was the proper
Latin, which all educated men and women still understood,
and used in the serious business of life.
But, sooner or later, men will talk and sing and think
and compose in the speech which is closest to them. The
Romance tongues became literary through this human need
of natural expression. There always had been songs in the
old Vulgar Latin ; and such did not cease as it gradually
became what one may call Romance. Moreover, the clergy
might be impelled to use the popular speech in preaching to
^ Ante, Chapter IX., ii. and iii.
^ For generous samples of it, see GeistUche Lit. des Mittelalters, ed. P. Piper
(Deutsche National Literatur).
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 251
the laity, or some unlearned person might compose religious
verses. Almost the oldest monument of Old French is
the hymn in honour of Ste. Eulalie. Then as civilization
advanced from the tenth to the twelfth century, in southern
and northern France for example, and the langue d'oc and
the langue d'oil became independent and developed languages,
unlearned men, or men with unlearned audiences, would
unavoidably set themselves to composing poetry in these
tongues. In the North the chansons de geste came into
existence ; in the South the knightly Troubadours made
love-lyrics. Somehow, these poems were written down, and
there was literature for men's eyes as well as for men's ears.
In the twelfth century and the thirteenth, the audiences
for Romance poetry, especially through the regions of
southern and northern France, increased and became
diversified. They were made up of all classes, save the
brute serf, and of both sexes. The chansons de geste met
the taste of the feudal barons ; the Arthurian Cycle charmed
the feudal dames; the coaiise fabliaux pleased the bourgeoisie;
and chansons of all kinds might be found diverting by various
people. If the religious side was less strongly represented,
it was because the closeness of the language to the clerkly
and liturgical Latin left no such need of translations as was
felt from the beginning among peoples of Germanic speech.
Still the Gospels, especially the apocryphal, were put into
Old French, and miracles de Notre Dame without number ;
also legends of the saints, and devout tales of many kinds.
The accentual verses of the Romance tongues had their
source in the popular accentual Latin verse of the later
Roman period. Their development was not unrelated to
the Latin accentual verse which was superseding metrical
composition in the centuries extending, one may say, from
the fifth to the eleventh. Divergences between the Latin
and Romance verse would be caused by the linguistic
evolution through which the Romance tongues were becoming
independent languages. Nor was this divergence uninfluenced
by the fact that Romance poetry was popular and usually
concerned with topics of this life, while Latin poetry in the
most striking lines of its evolution was liturgical ; and even
when secular in topic tended to become learned, since it was
252 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
the product of the academically educated classes. Much of
the vernacular (Romance as well as Germanic) poetry in the
Middle Ages was composed by unlearned men who had at
most but a speaking acquaintance with Latin, and knew
little of the antique literature. This was true, generally, of
the Troubadours of Provence, of the authors of the Old
French chansons de geste, and of such a courtly poet as
Chretien de Troies ; true likewise of the great German
Minnesingers, epic poets rather, Gottfried von Strassburg,
Wolfram von Eschenbach, and Walther von der Vogelweide.
On the other hand, vernacular poetry might be written
by highly learned men, of whom the towering though late
example would be Dante Alighieri. An instance somewhat
nearer to us at present is Jean Clopinel or de Meun, the
author of the second part of the Roman de la rose. His
extraordinary Voltairean production embodies all the learning
of the time ; and its scholar-author was a man of genius, who
incorporated his learning and the fruit thereof very organically
in his poem.
But here, at the close of our consideration of the
mediaeval appreciation of the Classics, and the relations
between the Classics and mediaeval Latin literature, we are
not occupied with the very loose and general question of the
amount of classical learning to be found in the vernacular
literatures of western Europe. That was a casual matter
depending on the education and learning, or lack thereof, of
the author of the given piece. But it may be profitable to
glance at the passing over of antique themes of story into
mediaeval vernacular literature, and the manner of their
refashioning. This is a huge subject, but we shall not go
into it deeply, or pursue the various antique themes through
their endless propagations.
Antique stories aroused and pointed the mediaeval
imagination ; they made part of the never-absent antique
influence which helped to bring the mediaeval peoples on
and evoke in them an articulate power to fashion and create
all kinds of mediaeval things. But with antique story as
with other antique material, the Middle Ages had to turn it
over and absorb it, and also had to become themselves with
power, before they could refashion the antique theme or
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 253
create along its lines. All this had taken place by the
middle of the twelfth century. As to choice of matter,
twelfth-century refashioners would either select an antique
theme suited to their handling, or extract what appealed to
them from some classic story. In the one case as in the
other they might recast, enlarge, or invent as their faculties
permitted.
Mediaeval taste took naturally to the degenerate pro-
ductions of the late antique or transition centuries. The
Greek novels seem to have been unknown, except the
Apollonius of Tyre.'^ But the congenially preposterous story
of Alexander by the Pseudo-Callisthenes was available in a
sixth-century Latin version, and was made much of. Equally
popular was the debasement and intentional distortion of the
Tale of Troy in the work of " Dares " and " Dictys " ; other
tales were aptly presented in Ovid's Metamorphoses ; and
the stories of Hero and Leander, of Pyramus and Thisbe, of
Narcissus, Orpheus, Cadmus, Daedalus, were widely known
and often told in the Middle Ages.
The mediaeval writers made as if they believed these
tales. At least they accepted them as they would have
their own audiences accept their recasting, with little reflec-
tion as to whether truth or fable. But was the work of
the refashioners conscious fiction ? Scarcely, when it simply
recast the old story in mediaevalizing paraphrase ; but when
the poet went on and wove out of ten lines a thousand, he
must have known himself devising.
The mediaeval treatment of classic themes of history and
epic poetry shows how the Middle Ages refashioned and
reinspired after their own image whatever they took from
the antique. If it was partly their fault, it was also their
unavoidable misfortune that they received these great themes
in the literary distortions of the transition centuries. Doubt-
less they preferred encyclopaedic dulness to epic unity ;
^ For this novel, a Greek original is usually assumed ; but the Middle Ages
had it only in a sixth-century Latin version. It was copied in Jourdain de Blaie,
a chanson de geste. See Hagen, Der Roman von Konig Apollonius in seinen ver-
schiedenen Bearbeitungen (Berlin, 1878). The other Greek novels doubtless
would have been as popular had the Middle Ages known them. In fact, the
Ethiopica of Heliodorus, and others of these novels, did become popular enough
through translations in the sixteenth century.
254 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
they loved fantasy rather than history, and of course de-
Hghted in the preposterous, as they found it in the Latin
version of the Life and Deeds of Alexander. As for the
Tale of Troy, the real Homer never reached them : and
perhaps mediaeval peoples who were pleased, like Virgil's
Romans, to draw their origins from Trojan heroes, would
have rejected Homer's story just as " Dares " and " Dictys,"
whoever they were, did.^ The true mediaeval rifacimenti,
to wit, the retellings of these tales in the vernacular, mirror
the mediaeval mind, the mediaeval character, and the whole
panorama of mediaeval life and fantasy.
The chief epic themes drawn from the antique were the
Tales of Troy and Thebes and the story of Aeneas. In
verse and prose they were retold in the vernacular literatures
and also in mediaeval Latin. ^ We shall, however, limit our
view to the primary Old French versions, which formed the
basis of compositions in German, Italian, English, as well as
French. They were composed between 1150 and 1170 by
Norman-French trouveres. The names of the authors of
the Roman de Thebes and the Eneas are unknown ; the
Roman de Troie was written by Benoit de St. More.
These poems present a universal substitution of mediaeval
manners and sentiment. For instance, one observes that
the epic participation of the pagan gods is minimized, and
in the Roman de Troie even discarded ; necromancy, on the
^ Hugo of St. Victor says in the twelfth century : " Apud gentUes primus
Darhes Phrygius Trojanam historiam edidit, quam in foliis palmarum ab eo
scriptam esse ferunt " (Erud. didas. iii. cap. 3 ; Migne 176, col. 767).
On the Trojan origin of the Franks, Britons, and other peoples, see Joly in
his " Benoit de St. More et le Roman de Troie," pp. 606-635 {Mem. de la Soc. des
Antiquaires de Normandie, vol. vii. 3™^ ser., 1869) ; also Graf., Roma nella memoria,
etc., del medio aevo. The Trojan origin of the Franks was a commonplace in the
early Middle Ages, see e.g. Aimoinus of Fleury in beginning of his Historia Fran-
corum, Migne 139, col. 637.
On Dares the Phrygian and Dictys the Cretan see " Dares and Dictys," N. E.
Grif&n (Johns Hopkins Studies, Baltimore, 1907) ; Taylor, Classical Heritage,
pp. 40 and 360 (authorities) ; also, generally, L. Constans, " L'fipopee antique,"
in Petit de Julleville's Histoire de la tangue et de la littirature frangaise, vol. i.
(Paris, 1896).
^ Joseph of Exeter or de Iscano, as he is called, at the close of the twelfth
century composed a Latin poem in six books of hexameters entitled De bello
Trojano. It is one of the best mediaeval productions in that metre. The author
followed Dares, but his diction shows a study of Virgil, Ovid, Statius, and Claudian.
See J. J. Jusserand, De Josepho Exoniensi vel Iscano (Paris, 1877) ; A. Sarradin,
De Josepho Iscano, Belli Trojani, etc. (Versailles, 1878).
cHAP.xxxm MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 255
other hand, abounds. A more interestmg change is the
transformation of the love episode. That had become an
epic adjunct in Alexandrian Greek literature as early as the
third century before Christ. It existed in the antique
sources of all these mediaeval poems. Nevertheless, the
romantic narratives of courtly love in the latter are mediaeval
creations.
The Eneas relates the love of Lavinia forfthe hero, most
correctly reciprocated by him. The account of it fills four-
teen hundred lines, and has no precedent in Virgil's poem,
which in other respects is followed closely. Lavinia sees
Aeneas from her tower, and at once understands a previous
discourse of her mother on the subject of love. She utters
love's plaints, and then faints because Aeneas does not seem
to notice her. After which she passes a sleepless night.
The next morning she tells her mother, who is furious, since
she favours Tumus as a suitor. The girl falls senseless, but
coming to herself when alone, she recalls love's stratagems,
and attaches a letter to an arrow which is shot so as to fall
at Aeneas's feet. Aeneas reads the letter, and turns and
salutes the fair one furtively, that his followers may not see.
Then he enters his tent and falls so sick with love that he
takes to his bed. The next day Lavinia watches for him,
and thinks him false, till at last, pale and feeble, he appears,
and her heart acquits him ; amorous glances now fly back
and forth between them.^
To have this jaded jilt grow sick with love is a little too
much for us, and Aeneas is absurd ; but the universal human
touches us quite otherwise in the sweet changing heart of
Briseida in the Roman de Troie. There is no ground for
denjdng to Benoit of St. More his meed of fame for creatmg
this charming person and starting her upon her career.
Following " Dares," Benoit calls her Briseida ; but she
becomes the Griseis of Boccaccio's Filostrafo ; and what
good man does not sigh and love her under the name of
Cressid in Chaucer's poem, though he may deplore her
somewhat brazen heartlessness in Shakespeare's play.
It is not given to all men, or women, in presence or
absence, in life and death, to love once and forever. One has
^ Eneas, ed. by Salverda de Grave (Halle, 1891), lines 7857-9262.
2 56 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
the stable heart, another's fancy is quickly turned. Some-
times, of course, our moral sledge-hammers should be brought
to bear ; but a little hopeless smile may be juster, as we sigh
" she (it is more often " he ") couldn't help it." Such was
Briseida, the sweet, loving, helpless — coquette ? jilt ? flirt ?
these words are all too belittling to tell her truly. Benoit
knew better. He took her dry-as-dust characterization from
" Dares " ; he gave it life, and then let his fair creature do
just the things she might, without ceasing to be she.
The abject " Dares " (Benoit may have had a better
story under that name) in his catalogue of characters has
this : " Briseidam formosam, alta statura, candidam, capillo
flavo et moUi, superciliis junctis, oculis venustis, corpore
aequali, blandam, affabilem, verecundam, animo simplici [O
ye gods !], piam." He makes no other mention of this tall,
graceful girl, with her lovely eyes and eyebrows meeting
above, her modest, pleasant mien, and simple soul ; for
simple she was, and therein lies the direst bit of truth about
her. For it is simple and uncomplex to take the colour of
new scenes and faces, and of new proffered love when the
old is far away.
Now see what Benoit does with this dust : Briseida is
the daughter of Calchas, a Trojan seer who had passed over
to the Greeks, warned by Apollo. He is in the Grecian
host, but his daughter is in Troy. Benoit says, she was
engaging, lovelier and fairer than the fleur de lis — though
her eyebrows grew rather too close together. " Beaux yeux "
she had, " de grande maniere," and charming was her talk, and
faultless her breeding as her dress. Much was she loved
and much she loved, although her heart changed ; and she
was very loving, simple, and kind :
" Molt fu amee et molt ameit
Mes sis corages li changeit ;
Et si esteit molt amorose,
Sim.ple et almosniere et pitose." ^
Calchas wants his daughter, and Priam decides to send
1 Roman de Troie, 5257-5270, ed. Joly ; " Benoit de St. More et le Roman
de Troie, etc.," Mem. de la Soc. des Antiquaires de Normandie, vol. vii. s'^^ ger.,
1869. On its sources see also L. Constans, in Petit de Julleville's Hist, de la langue
et de la litt. frangaise, vol. i. pp. 188-220.
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 257
her. There is truce between the armies. Troilus, Troy's
glorious young knight, matchless in beauty, in arms second
only to his brother Hector, is beside himself. He loves
Briseida, and she him. What tears and protestations, and
what vows ! But the girl must go to her father.
On the morrow the young dame has other cares — to see
to the packing of her lovely dresses and put on the loveliest
of them ; over all she threw a mantle inwoven with the
flowers of Paradise. The Trojan ladies add their tears to
the damsel's ; for she is ready to die of grief at leaving her
lover. Benoit assures us that she will not weep long ; it is
not woman's way, he continues somewhat mediaevally.
The brilliant cortege is met by one still more distinguished
from the Grecian host. Troilus must turn back, and the
lady passes to the escort of Diomede. She was young ; he
was impetuous ; he looks once, and then greets her with a
torrential declaration of love. He never loved before ! ! He
is hers, body and soul and high emprize. Briseida speaks
him fair :
" At this time it would be wrong for me to say a word of love.
You would deem me light indeed ! Why, I hardly know you !
and girls so often are deceived by men. What you have said
cannot move a heart grieving, like mine, to lose my — friend, and
others whom I may never see again. For one of my station to
speak to you of love ! I have no mind for that. Yet you seem of
such rank and prowess that no girl under heaven ought to refuse
you. It is only that I have no heart to give. If I had, surely I
could hold none dearer than you. But I have neither the thought
nor power, and may God never give it to me ! " ^
One need not tell the flash of joy that then was
Diomede's, nor the many troubles that were to be his before
at last Briseida finds that her heart has indeed turned to this
new lover, always at hand, courting danger for her sake, and
at last wounded almost to death by Troilus's spear. The end
of the story is assured in her first discreetly halting words.
Enough has been said to show how far Benoit was from
Omers qui fu clers merveillos, and what a story in some
thirty thousand lines he has made of the dry data of " Dares "
and " Dictys." His Briseida, with her changing heart, was to
1 Roman de Troie, 13235 sqq.
VOL. II S
,*^
258 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
rival steadier - minded but not more lovable women of
mediaeval fiction — Iseult or Guinevere. And although the
far-off echo of Briseid's name comes from the ancient cen-
turies, none the less she is as entirely a mediaeval creation
as Lancelot's or Tristram's queen. Thus the Middle Ages
took the antique narrative, and created for themselves within
the altered lines of the old tale.^
The transformation of themes of epic story in vernacular
mediaeval versions is paralleled by mediaeval refashionings
of historical subjects which had been Actionized before the
antique period closed. A chief example is the romance of
Alexander the Great, The antique source was the con-
queror's Life and Deeds, written by one who took the
name of Alexander's physician, Callisthenes. The author
was some Egyptian Greek of the first century after Christ.
His work is preposterous from the beginning to the end, and
presents a succession of impossible marvels performed by
the somewhat indistinguishable heroes of the story. Its
qualities were reflected in the Latin versions, which in turn
were drawn upon by the Old French rhyming romancers.
1 The Roman de Thebes, the third of these large poems, is temperate in the
adaptation and extension of its theme. Its ten thousand or more lines of eight-
syllable rhyming verse are no longer than the Thehaid of Statins, and as a narrative
make quite as interesting reading. Statins, who lived under Domitian, was a
poet of considerable skill, but with no genius for the construction of an epic.
His work reads well in patches, but does not move. Several books are taken
up with getting the Argive army in motion, and when the reader and Jove himself
are wearied, it moves on — to the next halt. And so forth through the whole
twelve books. See Nisard, j^tudes sur les poetes latins de la decadence, vol. i. p.
261 sqq. (2nd ed., Paris, 1849) ; Pichon, Hist, de la litt. lat. p. 606 (2nd ed., Paris,
1898). The Roman de Thebes was not drawn directly from the work of Statins,
but through the channels, apparently, of intervening prose compendia. It also
evidently drew from other works, as it contains matters not found in Statius's
Thebaid. It is easy, if not inspiring, reading. The style is clear, and the narrative
moves. Of course it presents a general mediaevalizing of the manners of Statius's
somewhat fustian antique heroes ; it introduces courtly love (e.g. the love between
Parthonopeus and Antigone, lines 3793 sqq.), mediaeval commonplaces, and feudal
customs. It drops the antique conception of accursed .fate as a fxmdamental
motive of the plot, substituting in its place the varied play of romantic and
chivakic sentiment.
Leopold Constans has made the Roman de Thebes his own. Having followed
the story of Oedipus through the Middle Ages in his Ligende d'CEdipe, etc. (Paris,
188 1), he has corrected some of his views in his critical edition of the poem, " Le
Roman de Thebes," 2 vols., 1890 {Soc. des anciens textes frangais), and has treated
the same matters more popularly in Petit de Julleville's Hist, de la langue et de
la litt. frangaise, vol. i. pp. 170-188. These works fully discuss the sources, date,
and language of the poem, and the later redactions in prose and verse through
Europe.
CHAP. XXXIII MEDIAEVAL LATIN VERSE 259
The latter mediaevalized and feudalized the tale. Nor were
they halted by any absurdity, or conscious of the character-
lessness of the puppets of the tale.^
Further to pursue the fortunes of antique themes in
mediaeval literature would lead us beyond bounds. Yet
mention should be made of the handling of minor narratives,
as the Metamorphoses of Ovid. They were very popular,
and from the twelfth century on, paraphrases or refashionings
were made of many of them. These added to the old tale a
the interesting mediaeval element of the moral or didactic
allegory. The most prodigious instance of this moralizing
of Ovid was the work of Chretien Legouajs, a French \
Franciscan who wrote at the beginning of the fourteenth
century. In some seventy thousand lines he presented the
stories of the Metamorphoses, the allegories which he
discovered in them, and the moral teaching of the same.^
Equally interesting was the application of allegory to
Ovid's Ars amatoria. The first translators treated this
frivolous production as an authoritative treatise upon the art
of winning love. So it was, perhaps, only Ovid was amusing
himself by making a parable of his youthful diversions.
Mediaeval imitators changed the habits of the gilded youth
of Rome to suit the society of their time. But they did
more, being votaries of courtly love. Such love in the
Middle Ages had its laws which were prone to deduce their
lineage from Ovid's verses. But its uplifted spirit revelled
in symbolism ; and tended to change to spiritual allegory
whatever authority it imagined itself based upon, even though
the authority were a book as dissolute, when seriously
considered, as the Ars amatoria. It is strange to think of
this poem as the very far off street-walking prototype of De
Lorris's Roman de la rose.
^ On Pseudo-Callisthenes see Paul Meyer, Alexandre le Grand dans la litter ature
frangaise du moyen age (Paris, 1886) ; Taylor, Classical Heritage, etc., pp. 38 and
360. In the last quarter of the twelfth century Walter of Lille, called also Walter
of Chatillon, wrote his Alexandreis in ten books of easy- flowing hexameters. It
is printed in Migne, Pat. Lot. 209, col. 463-572. Of. ante, page 221. His work
shows that a mediaeval scholar-poet could reproduce a historical theme quite
soberly. His poem was read by other bookmen ; but the Alexander of the Middle
Ages remained the Alexander of the fabulous vernacular versions.
^ See Gaston Paris, " Chretien Legouais et autres imitateurs d'Ovide," Hist,
litt. de la France, t. xxix., pp. 455-525.
CHAPTER XXXIV
MEDIAEVAL APPROPRIATION OF THE ROMAN LAW
I. The Pontes Juris Civilis.
II. Roman and Barbarian Codification.
III. The Mediaeval Appropriation.
IV. Church Law.
V. Political Theorizing.
Of all examples of mediaeval intellectual growth through
the appropriation of the antique, none is more completely
illuminating than the mediaeval use of Roman law. As
with patristic theology and antique philosophy, the Roman
law was crudely taken and then painfully learned, till in the
end, vitally and broadly mastered, it became even a means
and mode of mediaeval thinking. Its mediaeval appropria-
tion illustrates the legal capacity of the Middle Ages and
their concern with law both as a practical business and an
intellectual interest.
Primitive law is practical ; it develops through the
adjustment of social exigencies. Gradually, however, in an
intelligent community which is progressing under favouring
influences, some definite consciousness of legal propriety,
utility, or justice, makes itself articulate in statements of
general principles of legal right and in a steady endeavour
to adjust legal relationships and adjudicate actual con-
troversies in accordance. This endeavour to formulate just
and useful principles, and decide novel questions in accordance
with them, and enunciate new rules in harmony with the
260
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 261
body of the existing law, is jurisprudence, which thus works
always for concord, co-ordination, and system.
There was a jurisprudential element in the early law of
Rome. The Twelve Tables are trenchant announcements
of rules of procedure and substantial law. They have the
form of the general imperative : "Thus letgit be; If one
summons [another] to court, let him go ; As a man shall
have appointed by his Will, so let it be ; When one makes a
bond or purchase,^ as the tongue shall have pronounced it, so
let it be." These statements of legal rules are far from
primitive ; they are elastic, inclusive, and suited to form the
foundation of a large and free legal development. And the
consistency with which the law of debt was carried out to
its furthest cruel conclusion, the permitted division of the
body of the defaulting debtor among several creditors,^ gave
earnest of the logic which was to shape the Roman law in
its humaner periods. Moreover, there is jurisprudence in
the arrangement of the Laws of the Twelve Tables. Never-
theless, the jurisprudential element is still but inchoate.
The Romans were endowed with a genius for law.
Under the later Republic and the Empire, the minds of
their jurists were trained and broadened by Greek philosophy
and the study of the laws of Mediterranean peoples ; Rome
was becoming the commercial as well as social and political
centre of the world. From this happy combination of causes
resulted the most comprehensive body of law and the noblest
jurisprudence ever evolved by a people. The great juris-
consults of the Empire, working upon the prior labours of
long lines of older praetors and jurists, perfected a body of
law of well-nigh universal applicability, which through-
out was logically consistent with general principles of law
and equity, recognized as fundamental. The latter were
in part suggested by Greek philosophy, especially by Stoicism
as adapted to the Roman temperament. They represented
the best ethics, the best justice of the time. As principles
of law, however, they would have hung in the air, had not
the practical as well as theorizing genius of the jurisconsults
1 The words " nexum mancipiumque " are more formal and special than the
English given above.
^ The early law had as yet devised no execution against the debtor's property.
262 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
been equal to the task of embod5dng them in legal proposi-
tions, and appl5dng the latter to the decision of cases. Thus
was evolved a body of practical rules of law, controlled, co-
ordinated, and, as one may say, universalized through the
constant logical employment of sound principles of legal
justice.^
The Roman law, broadly taken, was heterogeneous in
origin, and complex in its modes of growth. The great
jurisconsults of the Empire recognized its diversity of source,
and distinguished its various characteristics accordingly.
They assumed (and this was a pure assumption) that every
civilized people lived under two kinds of law, the one its
own, springing from some recognized law-making source
within the community ; the other the jus gentium, or the
law inculcated among all peoples by natural reason or
common needs.
The supposed origin of the jus gentium was not simple.
Back in the time of the Republic it had become necessary
to recognize a law for the many strangers in Rome, who were
not entitled to the protection of Rome's jus civile. The
edict of the praetor Peregrinus covered their substantial
rights, and sanctioned simple modes of sale and lease which
did not observe the forms prescribed by the jus civile. So
this edict became the chief source of the jus gentium so-called,
to wit, of those liberal rules of law which ignored the
peculiar formalities of the stricter law of Rome. Probably
foreign laws, that is to say, the commercial customs of the
Mediterranean world, were in fact recognized ; and their
study led to a perception of elements common to the laws
of many peoples. At all events, in course of time the jus
gentium came to be regarded as consisting of universal rules
of law which all peoples might naturally follow.
The recognition of these simple modes of contracting
obligations, and perhaps the knowledge that certain rules of
^ The jurisconsults whose opinions were authoritative flourished in the second
and third centuries. The great five were Gaius, Julian, Papinian, Ulpian, Paulus .
Inasmuch as these jurisconsults of the Empire were members of the Imperial (or,
later, Praetorian) Auditory, they were judges in a court of last resort, and their
" responsa " were decisions of actual cases. They subsequently "digested"
them in their books. See Mtmroe Smith, " Problems of Roman Legal History,"
Columbia Law Review, 1904, p. 538.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 263
law obtained among many peoples, fostered the concep-
tion of common or natural justice, which human reason
was supposed to inculcate everywhere. Such a concep-
tion could not fail to spring up in the minds of Roman
jurists who were educated in Stoical philosophy, the ethics
of which had much to say of a common human nature.
Indeed the idea naturalis ratio was in the air, and the
thought of common elements of law and justice which
naturalis ratio inter omnes homines constituit, lay so close at
hand that it were perhaps a mistake to try to trace it to
any single source. Practically the jus gentium became
identical with jus naturale, which Ulpian imagined as taught
by nature to all animals ; the jus gentium, however, belonged
to men alone.^
Thus rules which were conceived as those of the jus
gentium came to represent the principles of rational law, and
impressed themselves upon the development of the jus civile.
They informed the whole growth and application of Roman
law with a breadth of legal reason. And conceptions of a
jus naturale and a jus gentium became cognate legal fictions,
by the aid of which praetor and jurisconsult might justify
the validity of informal modes of contract. In their appli-
cation, judge and jurist learned how and when to disregard
the formal requirements of the older and stricter Roman law,
and found a way to the recognition of what was just and
convenient. These fictions agreed with the supposed nature
and demands of aequitas, which is the principle of progressive
and discriminating legal justice. Law itself (jus) was iden-
tical with aequitas conceived (after Celsus's famous phrase)
as the ars boni et aequi.
^ Dig. i. I (" De Just, et jure ") i. See Savigny, System des heutigen romischen
Rechts, i. p. 109 sqq. Apparently some of the jiurists (e.g. Gaius, Ins. i. i) draw
no substantial distinctions between the jus naturale and the jus gentium. Others
seem to distinguish. With the latter, jus naturale might represent natural or
instinctive principles of justice common to all men, and jus gentium, the laws
and customs which experience had led men to adopt. For instance, libertas is
jure naturali, whUe dominatio or servitus is introduced ex gentium jure [Dig. i. 5, 4 ;
Dig. xii. 6, 64). Jus gentium represented common expediency, but its institutions
(e.g. servitus) might or might not accord with natmral justice. For manumissio
as well as servitus was ex jure gentium [Dig. i. i, 4), and so were common modes
and principles of contract. Ulpian's notion of the jus naturale as pertaining to all
animals, and jus gentium as belonging to men alone, was but a catching classifica-
tion, and did not represent any commonly followed distinction.
264 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
The Roman law proper, the jus civile, had multifarious
sources. First the leges, enacted by the people ; then the
plehiscita, sanctioned by the Plebs ; the senatus consulta,
passed by the Senate ; the constitutiones and rescripta ^
principum, ordained by the Emperor. Excepting the
rescripta, these (to cover them with a modern expression)
were statutory. They were laws announced at a specific
time to meet some definite exigency. Under the Empire, the
constitutiones principum became the most important, and
then practically the only kind of legal enactment.
Two or three other sources of Roman law remain for
mention : first, the edicta of those judicial magistrates,
especially the praetors, who had the authority to issue them.
In his edict the praetor announced what he held to be the
law and how he would apply it. The edict of each successive
praetor was a renewal and expansion or modification of
that of his predecessor. Papinian calls this source of law
the "jus praetorium, which the praetors have introduced to
aid, supplement, or correct the jus civile for the sake of
public utility."
Next, the responsa or auctoritas jurisprudentium, by
which were intended the judicial decisions and the authority
of the legal writings of the famous jurisconsults. Imperial
rescripts recognized these responsa as authoritative for the
Roman courts ; and some of the emperors embodied
portions of them in formally promulgated collections,
thereby giving them the force of law. Justinian's Digest
is the great example of this method of codification.^ One
need scarcely add that the authoritative writings and
responsa of the jurisconsults extended and applied the jus
gentium, that is to say, the rules and principles of the best-
considered jurisprudence, freed so far as might be from
the formal peculiarities of the jus civile strictly speaking.
And the same was true of the praetorian edict. The
^ Constitutio is the more general term, embracing whatever the emperor
announces in writing as a law. The term rescript properly applies to the emperor's
written answers to questions addressed to him by magistrates, and to the decisions
of his Auditory rendered in his name.
* For this whole matter, see vol. i. of Savigny's System des heutigen romischen
Rechts ; Gaius, Institutes, the opening paragraphs ; and the first two chapters
of the first Book of Justinian's Digest.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 265
Roman law also gave legal effect to inveterata consuetudo,
the law which is sanctioned by custom : "for since the
laws bind us because established by the decision of the
people, those unwritten customs which the people have
approved are binding." ^
Simply naming the sources of Roman law indicates the
ways in which it grew, and the part taken by the juris-
consults in its development as a imiversal and elastic
system. It was due to their labours that legal principles
were logically carried out through the mass of enactments
and decisions ; that is, it was due to their large considera-
tion of the body of existing law, that each novel decision —
each case of first impression — should be a true legal
deduction, and not a solecism ; and that even the new
enactments should not create discordant law. And it was
due to their labours that as rules of law were called forth,
they were stated clearly and in terms of well-nigh universal
applicability.
The Laws of the Twelve Tables showed the action of
legal intelligence and the result of much experience. They
sanctioned a large contractual freedom, if within strict
forms ; they stated broadly the right of testamentary
disposition. Many of their provisions, which commonly
were but authoritative recognitions, were expressions of
basic legal principles, the application of which might be
extended to meet the needs of advancing civic life. And
through the enlargement of this fundamental collection of
law, or deviating from it in accordance with principles which
it implicitly embodied, the jurists of the Republic and the
first centuries of the Empire formed and developed a body
of private and public law from which the jurisprudence of
Europe and America has never even sought to free itself.
Roman jurisprudence was finally incorporated in
Justinian's Digest, which opens with a statement of the
most general principles, even those which would have
hung in the air but for the Roman genius of logical and
practical application to the concrete instance. " Jus est ars
boni et aequi " — it is better to leave these words untranslated,
such is the wealth of significance and connotation which
1 Dig. i. 3, 32.
266 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
they have acquired. " Justitia est constans et perpetua
voluntas jus suum cuique tribuendi. Juris praecepta sunt
haec : honeste vivere, alterum non laedere, suum cuique
tribuere. Jurisprudentia est divinarum atque humanarum
rerum notitia, justi atque injusti scientia."
The first pregnant phrase is from the older jurist
Celsus ; the longer passage is by the later Ulpian, and may
be taken as an expansion of the first. Both the one and
the other expressed the most advanced and philosophic
ethics of the ancient world. They are both in the first
chapter of the Digest, wherein they become enactments.
An extract from Paulus follows : " Jus has different mean-
ings ; that which is always aequum ac bonum is called jus,
to wit, the jus naturale : jus also means the jus civile, that
which is expedient {utile) for all or most in any state.
And in our state we have also the praetorian jus." This
passage indicates the course of the development of the
Roman law : the fundamental and ceaselessly growing core
of specifically Roman law, the jus civile ; its continual
equitable application and enlargement, which was the
praetor's contribution ; and the constant application of the
aequum ac bonum, observed perhaps in legal rules common
to many peoples, but more surely existing in the high
reasoning of jurists instructed in the best ethics and
philosophy of the ancient world, and learned and practised
in the law.
Now notice some of the still general, but distinctly
legal, rather than ethical, rules collected in the Digest :
The laws cannot provide specifically for every case that
may arise ; but when their intent is plain, he who is
adjudicating a cause should proceed ad similia, and thus
declare the law in the case.^ Here is stated the general
and important formative principle, that new cases should
be decided consistently and eleganter, which means logically
and in accordance with established rules. Yet legal
solecisms will exist, perhaps in a statute or in some rule
of law evoked by a special exigency. Their application
is not to be extended. For them the rule is : " What has
been accepted contra rationem juris, is not to be drawn out
1 Dig. i. 3, lo and 12.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 267
(producendum) to its consequences," ^ or again : " What was
introduced not by principle, but at first through error, does
not obtain in Hke cases." ^
These are true principles making for the consistent
development of a body of law. Observe the scope and
penetration of some other general rules : " Nuptias non
concubitus, sed consensus facit." ^ This goes to the legal
root of the whole conception of matrimony, and is still the
recognized starting-point of all law upon that subject.
Again : " An agreement to perform what is impossible will
not sustain a suit." * This is still ever5rwhere a fundamental
principle of the law of contracts. Again : " No one can
transfer to another a greater right than he would have
himself," ^ another principle of fundamental validity, but,
of course, like all rules of law subject in its application to
the qualifying operation of other legal rules.
Roman jurisprudence recognized the danger of definition :
" Omnis definitio in jure civili periculosa est." ^ Yet it could
formulate admirable ones ; for example : " Inheritance is
succession to the sum total {universum jus) of the rights of
the deceased." '^ This definition excels in the completeness
of its legal view of the matter, and is not injured by the
obvious omission to exclude those personal privileges and
rights of the deceased which terminate upon his death.
Thus we note the sources and constructive principles
of the Roman law. We observe that while certain of the
former might be called " statutory," the chief means and
method of development was the declarative edict of the
praetor and the trained labour of the jurisconsults. In
these appears the consummate genius of Roman juris-
prudence, a jurisprudence matchless in its rational conception
of principles of justice which were rooted in a philosophic
consideration of human life ; matchless also in its carrpng
through of such principles into the body of the law and
the decision of every case.
1 Dig. i. 3, 14. 2 /5j^_ 29. ^ Dig. 1. 17, 30.
* Dig. 1. 17, 31. 5 iijid^ 54_ 6 Ibid. 202.
' Dig. 1. 16, 24 ; Ibid. 17, 62.
268 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND
II
The Roman law was the creation of the genius of
Rome and also the product of the complex civilization of
which Rome was the kinetic centre. As the Roman power
crumbled, Teutonic invaders established kingdoms within
territories formerly subject to Rome and to her law — a
law, however, which commonly had been modified to suit
the peoples of the provinces. Those territories retained
their population of provincials. The invaders, Burgundians,
Visigoths, and Franks, planting themselves in the different
parts of Gaul, brought their own law, under which they
continued to live, but which they did not force upon the
provincial population. On the contrary, Burgundian and
Visigothic kings promulgated codes of Roman law for the
latter. And these represent the forms in which the Roman
law first passed over into modes of acceptance and applica-
tion no longer fully Roman, but partly Teutonic and
incipiently mediaeval. They exemplify, moreover, the fact,
so many aspects of which have been already noticed, of
transitional and partly barbarized communities drawing
from a greater past according to their simpler needs.
One may say that these codes carried on processes of
decline from the full creative genius of Roman jurisprudence,
which had irrevocably set in under the Empire in the
fourth and fifth centuries. The decline lay in a weakening
of the intellectual power devoted to the law and its
development. The living growth of the praetorian edict
had long since come to an end ; and now a waning juris-
prudential intelligence first ceased to advance the develop-
ment of law, and then failed to save from desuetude the
achieved jurisprudence of the past. So the jurisprudential
and juridical elements (jus) fell away from the law, and
the imperial constitutions {leges) remained the sole legal
vehicle and means of amendment. The need of codification
was felt, and that preserving and eliminating process was
entered upon.
Roman codification never became a reformulation. The
Roman Codex was a collection of existing constitutions. A
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 269
certain jurist (" Gregorianus ") made an orderiy and compre-
hensive collection of such as early as the close of Diocletian's
reign ; it was supplemented by the work of another jurist
(" Hermogenianus ") in the time of Constantine. Each com-
pilation was the work of a private person, who, without
authority to restate, could but compile the imperial con-
stitutions. The same method was adopted by the later
codifications, which were made and promulgated under
imperial decree. There were two which were to be of
supreme importance for the legal future of western Europe,
the Theodosian Code and the legislation of Justinian. The
former was promulgated in 438 by Theodosius II. and
Valentinianus. The emperors formally announce that " in
imitation {ad similitudinem) of the Code of Gregorianus and
Hermogenianus we have decreed that all the Constitutions
should be collected " which have been promulgated by
Constantine and his successors, including ourselves.^ So
the Theodosian Code contains many laws of the emperors
who decreed it.^ It was thus a compilation of imperial
constitutions already in existence, or decreed from year to
year while the codification was in process (429-438).
Every constitution is given in the words of its original
announcement, and with the name of the emperor.
Evidently this code was not a revision of the law.
The codification of Justinian began with the promulga-
tion of the Codex in 529. That was intended to be a com-
pilation of the constitutions contained in the previous codes
and still in force, as well as those which had been decreed
since the time of Theodosius. The compilers received
authority to omit, abbreviate, and supplement. The Codex
was revised and promulgated anew in 534. The constitu-
tions which were decreed during the remainder of Justinian's
long reign were collected after his death and published as
Novellae. So far there was nothing radically novel. But
under Justinian, life and art seemed to have revived in the
East ; and Tribonian, with the others who assisted in these
labours, had larger views of legal reform and jurisprudential
1 Cod. Theod. (ed. by Mommsen and Meyer) i. i, 5.
^ With the Theodosian Code the word lex, leges, begins to be used for the
constitutiones or other decrees of a sovereign.
270 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
conservation than the men who worked for Theodosius.
Justinian and his coadjutors had also serious plans for
improving the teaching of the law, in the furtherance of
which the famous little book of Institutes was composed
after the model, and to some extent in the words, of the
Institutes of Gains. It was published in 533.
The great labour, however, which Justinian and his
lawyers were as by Providence inspired to achieve was the
encyclopaedic codification of the jurisprudential law. Part
of the emperor's high-sounding command runs thus :
" We therefore command you to read and sift out from the
books pertaining to the jus Romanum composed by the ancient
learned jurists [antiqui prudentes), to whom the most sacred
emperors granted authority to indite and interpret the laws, so
that the material may all be taken from these writers, and incon-
gruity avoided — for others have written books which have been
neither used nor recognized. When by the favour of the Deity
this material shall have been collected, it should be reared with
toil most beautiful, and consecrated as the own and most holy
temple of justice, and the whole law {totumjus) should be arranged
in fifty books under specific titles." ^
The language of the ancient jurists was to be preserved
even critically, that is to say, the compilers were directed
to emend apparent errors and restore what seemed " verum
et optimum et quasi ab initio scriptum." It was not the
least of the providential mercies connected with the compila-
tion of this great body of jurisprudential law, that Justinian
and his commission did not abandon the phrasing of the old
jurisconsults, and restate their opinions in such language
as we have a sample of in the constitution from which
the above extract is taken. This jurisprudential part of
Justinian's Codification was named the Digest or Pandects.^
Inasmuch as Justinian's brief reconquest of western
portions of the Roman Empire did not extend north of the
Alps, his codification was not promulgated in Gaul or
1 From the constitution directing the compilation of the Digest, usually
cited as Deo auctore.
^ The original plan of Theodosius embraced the project of a Codex of the
jurisprudential law. See his constitution of the year 429 in Theod. C. i. i, 5.
Had this been carried out, as it was not, Justinian's Digest would have had a
forerunner.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 271
Germany. Even in Italy his legislation did not maintain
itself in general dominance, especially in the north where
the Lombard law narrowed its application. Moreover,
throughout the peninsula, the Pandects quickly became as if
they were not, and fell into desuetude, if that can be said of
a work which had not come into use. This body of juris-
prudential law was beyond the legal sense of those monarchi-
cally-minded and barbarizing centuries, which knew law only
as the command of a royal lawgiver. The Codex and the
Novellae were of this nature. They, and not the Digest,
represent the influence upon Italy of Justinian's legislation
until the renewed interest in jurisprudence brought the
Pandects to the front at the close of the eleventh century.
But Codex and Novellae were too bulky for a period that
needed to have its intellectual labours made easy. From
the first, the Novellae were chiefly known and used in the
condensed form given them in the excellent Epitome of
/w/za^ws, apparently a Byzantine of the last part of Justinian's
reign. ^ The cutting down and epitomizing of the Codex
is more obscure ; probably it began at once ; the incomplete
or condensed forms were those in common use.^
It is, however, with the Theodosian Code and certain
survivals of the works of the great jurists that we have
immediately to do. For these were the sources of the
codes enacted by Gothic and Burgundian kings for their
Roman or Gallo- Roman subjects. Apparently the earliest
of them was prepared soon after the year 502, at the com-
mand of Gondebaud, King of the Burgundians. This, which
later was dubbed the Papianus,^ was the work of a skilled
Roman lawyer, and seems quite as much a text-book as a
code. It set forth the law of the topics important for the
Roman provincials living in the Burgundian kingdom, not
merely making extracts from its sources, but stating their
contents and referring to them as authorities. These sources
1 Juliani epitome Latina Novellarum Justiniani, ed. by G. Haenel (Leipzig,
1873)-
^ Conrat, Ges. der Quellen und Lit. des rom. Rechts, pp. 48-59, and 161
sqq. ; Mommsen, Zeitschrift fur Rechtsges. 21 (1900), Roman. Abteilung, pp.
150-155.
^ Ed. by Bluhme, Mon. Germ, leges, iii. 579-630. Cf. Tardif, Sources du
droit frangais, 124-128. A code of Burgundian law had already been made.
272 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
were substantially the same as those used by the Visigothic
Breviarium, which was soon to supersede the Papianus even
in Burgundy.
Breviarium was the popular name of the code enacted by
the Visigothic king Alaric II. about the year 506 for his
provinciates in the south of Gaul.^ It preserved the integrity
of its sources, giving the texts in the same order, and with
the same rubrics, as in the original. The principal source
was the Theodosian Code ; next in importance the collections
of Novellae of Theodosius and succeeding emperors ; a few
texts were taken from the Codes of " Gregorianus " and
" Hermogenianus." These parts of the Breviarium consisted
of leges, that is, of constitutions of the emperors. Two
sources of quite a different character were also drawn upon.
One was the Institutes of Gains, or rather an old epitome
which had been made from it. The other was the Sententiae
of Paulus, the famous " Five Books of Sentences ad filium."
This work of elementary jurisprudence deserved its great
repute ; yet its use in the Breviarium may have been due to
the special sanction which had been given it in one of the
constitutions of the Theodosian Code, also taken over into
the Breviarium : " Pauli quoque sententias semper valere
praecipimus." ^ The same constitution confirmed the Insti-
tutes of Gains, among other great jurisconsults. Presum-
ably these two works were the most commonly known as
well as the clearest and best of elementary jurisprudential
compositions.
An interesting feature of the Breviarium, and destined
to be of great importance, was the Interpretatio accompany-
ing aU its texts, except those drawn from the epitome of
Gains. This was not the work of Alaric's compilers,
but probably represents the approved exposition of the
leges, with the exposition of the already archaic Sentences
of Paulus, current in the law schools of southern Gaul in
the .fifth century. The Interpretatio thus taken into the
Breviarium had, like the texts, the force of royal law, and
soon was to surpass them in practice by reason of its
"^ Edited by Haenel, with the epitomes of it in parallel columns, under the
name of Lex Romana Visigothorum (Leipzig, 1849). See Tardif, o.c. 129-143.
2 Cod. Theod. i. 4, 3 ; Brev. i. 4, i.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 273
perspicuity and modernity. Many manuscripts contain only
the Interpretatio and omit the texts.
The Breviarium became the source of Roman law,
indeed the Roman law par excellence, for the Merovingian
and then the Carolingian realm, outside of Italy. It was
soon subjected to the epitomizing process, and its epitomes
exist, dating from the eighth to the tenth century : they
reduced it in bulk, and did away with the practical incon-
venience of lex and interpretatio. Further, the Breviarium,
and even the epitomes, were glossed with numerous marginal
or interlinear notes made by transcribers or students. These
range from definitions of words, sometimes taken from
Isidore's Etymologiae, to brief explanations of difficulties in
the text.^ In like manner in Italy, the Codex and Novellae
of Justinian were, as has been said, reduced to epitomes,
and also equipped with glosses.
These barbaric codes of Roman law mark the passage
of Roman law into incipiently mediaeval stages. On the
other hand, certain Latin codes of barbarian law present the
laws of the Teutons touched with Roman conceptions, and
likewise becoming inchoately mediaeval.
Freedom, the efficient freedom of the individual, belongs
to civilization rather than to barbarism. The actual as well
as imaginary perils surrounding the lives of men who do not
dwell in a safe society, entail a state of close mutual
dependence rather than of liberty. Law in a civilized
community has the twofold purpose of preserving the
freedom of the individual and of maintaining peace. With
each advance in human progress, the latter purpose, at least
in the field of private civil law, recedes a little farther, while
^ On these epitomes and glosses see Conrat, Ges. der Quellen, etc., pp. 222-252.
Mention shoiild be made of the Edict of Theodoric the Ostrogoth, a piece of legisla-
tion contemporary with the Breviarium and the Papianus. In pursuance of
Theodoric's policy of amalgamating Goths and Romans, the Edict was made for
both {Barbari Romanique). Its sources were substantially the same as those
of the Breviarium, except that Gains was not used. The sources are not given
verbatim, but their contents are restated, often quite bunglingly. Naturally
a Teutonic influence rims through this short and incomplete code, which contains
more criminal than private law. No further reference need be made to it because
its influence practically ceased with the reconquest of Italy by Justinian. It is
edited by Bluhme, in Mon. Ger. leges, v. 145-169. See as to it, Savigny, Geschichte
des rom. Rechts, ii. 172-181 ; Salvioli, Storia del diritto italiano, 3rd ed., pp.
45-47.
VOL. II T
274 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
the importance of private law, as compared with penal law,
constantly increases.
The law of uncivilized peoples lacks the first of these
purposes. Its sole conscious object is to maintain, or at
least provide a method of maintaining, peace ; it is scarcely
aware that in maintaining peace it is enhancing the freedom
of every individual.
The distinct and conscious purpose of early Teutonic
law was to promote peace within the tribe, or among the
members of a warband. Thus was law regarded by the
people — as a means of peace. Its communication or
ordainment might be ascribed to a God or a divine King.
But in reality its chief source lay in slowly growing regula-
tive custom.! The force of law, or more technically speaking
the legal sanction, lay in the power of the tribe to uphold
its realized purpose as a tribe ; for the power to maintain
its solidarity and organization was the final test of its law-
upholding strength.
Primarily the old Teutonic law looked to the tribe and
its sub-units, and scarcely regarded the special claims of an
individual, or noticed mitigating or aggravating elements
in his culpability — answerability rather. It prescribed for
his peace and protection as a member of a family, or as
one included within the bands of Sippe (blood relationship) ;
or as one of a warband or a chief's close follower, one of
his comitatus. On the other hand, the law was stiff, narrow,
and ungeneralized in its recognized rules. The first Latin
codifications of Teutonic law are not to be compared for
breadth and elasticity of statement to the Law of the Twelve
Tables. And their substance was more primitive. ^
The earliest of these first codifications was the Lex
Salica, codified under Clovis near the year 500. Unquestion-
ably, contact with Roman institutions suggested the idea,
even as the Latin language was the vehicle, of this code.
Otherwise the Lex Salica is un-Christian and un-Roman,
although probably it was put together after Clovis's baptism.
It was not a comprehensive codification, and omitted much
^ Cf. Brunner, Deutsche RechtsgeschicMe, i. p. 109 sqq.
^ For the characteristics and elements of early Teutonic law, see Brunner,
Deutsche Rechtsgeschichte, Bd. i.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 275
that was common knowledge at the time ; which now
makes it somewhat enigmatical. One finds in it lists of
thefts of every sort of object that might be stolen, and of
the various injuries to the person that might be done, and
the sum of money to be paid in each case as atonement or
compensation. Such schedules did not set light store on
life and property. On the contrary, they were earnestly
intended as the most available protection of elemental
human rights, and as the best method of peaceful redress.
The sums awarded as Wergeld were large, and were reckoned
according to the slain man's rank. By committing a
homicide, a man might ruin himself and even his blood
relatives [Sippe), and of course on failure to atone might
incur servitude or death or outlawry.
The Salic law is scarcely touched by the law of Rome.
From this piece ^of intact Teutonism, the codes of other
Teuton peoples shade off into bodies of law partially
Romanized, that is, affected by the provincialized Roman
law current in the locality where the Teutonic tribe found
a home. The codes of the Burgundians and the Visigoths
in southern France are examples of this Teutonic-Romanesque
commingling. On the other hand, the Lombard codes,
though later in time, held themselves even harshly Teutonic,
as opposed to any influence from the law of the conquered
Italian population, for whom the Lombards had less regard
than Burgundians and Visigoths had for their subject pro-
vincials. Moreover, as the Frankish realm extended its
power over other Gallo-Teuton states, the various Teuton
laws modified each other and tended toward uniformity.
Naturally the law of the Franks, first the Salic and then the
partly derivative Ribuarian code, exerted a dominating
influence. 1
These Teuton peoples regarded law as pertaining to
the tribe. There was little conscious intention on their part
of forcing their laws on the conquered. When the Visigoths
established their kingdom in southern France they had no
idea of changing the law of the Gallo-Roman provincials
living within the Visigothic rule ; and shortly afterwards,
when the Franks extended their power over the still Roman
^ See Brunner, Deutsche Rechtsgeschichte, i. p. 254 sqq., and 338-340.
276 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
parts of Gaul, and then over Alemanni, Burgundians, and
Visigoths, they likewise had no thought of forcing their
laws either upon Gallo-Romans or upon the Teuton people
previously dominant within a given territory. This remained
true even of the later Prankish period, when the Carolingians
conquered the Lombard kingdom in upper Italy,
Indeed, to all these Teutons and to the Roman pro-
vincials as well, it seemed as a matter of course that tribal
or local laws should be permitted to endure among the
peoples they belonged to. These assumptions and the
conditions of the growing Frankish Empire evoked, as it
were, a more acute mobilization of the principle that to
each people belonged its law. For provincials and Teuton
peoples were mingling throughout the Frankish realm, and
the first obvious solution of the legal problems arising was
to hold that provincials and Teutons everywhere should
remain amenable and entitled to their own law, which was
assumed to attend them as a personal appurtenance. Of
course this solution became intolerable as tribal blood and
delimitations became obscure, and men moved about through
the territories of one great realm. Archbishop Agobard of
Lyons remarks that one might see five men sitting together,
each amenable to a different law.^ The escape from this
legal confusion was to revert to the idea of law and custom
as applying to every one within a given territory. The
personal principle gradually gave way to this conception in
the course of the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries. ^ In
the meanwhile during the Merovingian, and more potently
in the Carolingian period, king's law, as distinguished from
people's law, had been an influence making for legal uni-
formity throughout that wide conglomerate empire which
acknowledged the authority of the Frankish king or
emperor. The king's law might emanate from the delegated
authority, and arise from the practices, of royal functionaries ;
^ " Ad versus Gundobadi legem," c. 4 (Mon. Germ, leges, iii. 504). As to
Agobard see ante, Vol. I. p. 232.
^ The matter is suggested here only in its general aspects. The detaUs present
every kind of complication (for some purposes to-day a court will apply the law
of the litigant's domicile). The professio {professus sum or professa sum), by
which a man or woman formally declares by what law he or she lives, remained
comjnon in Italy for five centuries after Pippin's conquest, and indicates the legal
situation there, especially of the Teutonic newcomers.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 277
it was most formally promulgated in Capitularies, which with
Chariemagne reach such volume and importance. Some of
these royal ordinances related to a town or district only.
Others were for the realm, and the latter not only were
instances of law applying universally, but also tended to
promote, or suggest, the harmonizing of laws which they did
not modify directly.
Ill
The Roman law always existed in the Middle Ages.
Provincialized and changed, it was interwoven in the law
and custom of the land of the langue d'oc and even in the
customary law of the lands where the langue d'oil was
spoken. Through the same territory it existed also in the
Breviarium and its epitomes. There was very little of it
in England, and scarcely a trace in the Germany east of the
Rhine. In Italy it was applied when not superseded by the
Lombard codes, and was drawn from works based on the
Codex and Novels of Justinian. But the jurisprudential
law contained in Justinian's Digest was as well forgotten in
Italy as in any land north of the Alps, where the Codifica-
tion of Justinian had never been promulgated. The extent
to which the classic forms of Roman law were known or
unknown, unforgotten or forgotten, was no accident as of
codices or other writings lost accidentally. It hung upon
larger conditions — whether society had reached that stage
of civilized exigency demanding the application of an
advanced commercial law, and whether there were men
capable of understanding and appl5/ing it. This need and
the capacity to understand would be closely joined.^
The history of the knowledge and imderstanding of
Roman law in the Middle Ages might be resolved into a
consideration of the sources drawn upon, and the extent and
manner of their use, from century to century. In the fifth
century, when the Theodosian Code was promulgated, law
was thought of chiefly as the mandate of a ruler. The
1 One sees an analogy in the fortunes of the Boethian translations of the
more advanced treatises of Aristotle's Organon. They fell into disuse (or never
came into use) and so were " lost " until they came to light, i.e. into use, in the
last part of the twelfth century. But see ante, Vol. I. p. 92, note 2.
278 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
Theodosian Code was composed of constitutiones principum.
Likewise the Breviarium, based upon it, and other barbarian
codes of Roman law, were ordained by kings ; and so were
the codes of Teutonic law. For law, men looked directly
to the visible ruler. The jus, reasoned out by the wisdom
of trained jurists, had lost authority and interest. To be sure,
a hundred years later Justinian's Commission put together
in the Digest the body of jurisprudential law ; but even in
Italy where his codification was promulgated, the Digest fell
still-bom. Never was an official compilation of less effect
upon its own time, or of such mighty import for times to
come.
The Breviarium became par excellence the code of Roman
law for the countries included in the present France. With
its accompanying Interpretatio it was a work indicating
intelligence on the part of its compilers, whose chief care
was as to arrangement and explanation. But the time was
not progressive, and a gathering mental decadence was
shown by the manner in which the Breviarium was treated
and used, to wit, epitomized in many epitomes, and practi-
cally superseded by them. Here was double evidence of
decay ; for the supersession of such a work by such epitomes
indicates a diminishing legal knowledge in the epitomizers,
and also a narrowing of social and commercial needs in the
community, for which the original work contained much that
was no longer useful.
There were, of course, epitomes and epitomes. Such a
work as the Epitome Juliani, in which a good Byzantine
lawyer of Justinian's time presented the substance of the
Novellae, was an excellent compendium, and deserved the
fame it won. Of a lower order were the later manipulations
of Justinian's Codex, by which apparently the Codex was
superseded in Italy. One of these was the Summa Perusina
of the ninth or tenth century, a wretched work, and one of
the blindest.^
Justinian's Codex and Julian's Epitome were equipped
with glosses, some of which are as early as Justinian's time ;
but the greater part are later. The glosses to Justinian's
legislation resemble those of the Breviarium before referred
^ See Conrat, Ges. der Quellen, pp. 182-187.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 279
to. That is to say, as the centuries pass downward toward
the tenth, the glosses answer to cruder needs : they become
largely translations of words, often taken from Isidore's
Etymologiae} Indeed many of them appear to have had
merely a grammatical interest, as if the text was used as an
aid in the study of the Latin language.
The last remark indicates a way in which a very super-
ficial acquaintance with the Roman law was kept up through
the centuries prior to the twelfth : it was commonly taught
in the schools devoted to elementary instruction, that is to
say, to the Seven Liberal Arts. In many instances the
instructors had only such knowledge as they derived from
Isidore, that friend of every man. That is, they had no
special knowledge of law, but imparted various definitions to
their pupils, just as they might teach them the names of
diseases and remedies, a list of which (and nothing more)
they would also find in Isidore. It was all just as one
might have expected. Elementary mediaeval education was
encyclopaedic in its childish way ; and, in accordance with
the methods and traditions of the transition centuries, all
branches of instruction were apt to be turned to grammar
and rhetoric, and made linguistic, so to speak — mere subjects
for curious definition. Thus it happened to law as well as
medicine. Yet some of the teachers may have had a prac-
tical acquaintance with legal matters, with an understanding
for legal documents and skill to draw them up.
The assertion also is warranted that at certain centres of
learning substantial legal instruction was given ; one may
even speak of schools of law. Scattered information touching
all the early mediaeval periods shows that there was no time
when instruction in Roman law could not be obtained some-
where in western Europe. To refer to France, the Roman
law was very early taught at Narbonne ; at Orleans it was
taught from the time of Bishop Theodulphus, Charlemagne's
contemporary, and probably the teaching of it long continued.
One may speak in the same way of Lyons ; and in the
eleventh century Angers was famed for the study of law.
Our information is less broken as to an Italy, where
through the early Middle Ages more general opportunities
^ See Conrat, Ges. der Quellen, etc., pp. 162-166, 168-182, 192-202, 240-252.
280 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
offered for elementary education, and where the Roman law,
with Justinian's Codification as a base, made in general the
law of the land. There is no reason to suppose that it was
not taught. Contemporary allusions bear witness to the
existence of a school of law in Rome in the time of Cassio-
dorus and afterwards, which is confirmed by a statement of
the jurist Odofredus in the thirteenth century. At Pavia
there was a school of law in the time of Rothari, the legislat-
ing Lombard king ; this reached the zenith of its repute in
the eleventh century. Legal studies also flourished at
Ravenna, and succumbed before the rising star of the
Bologna school at the beginning of the twelfth century.^
In these and doubtless many other cities,^ students were
instructed in legal practices and formulae, and some substance
of the Roman law was taught. Extant legal documents of
various kinds afford, especially for Italy, ample evidence of
the continuous application of the Roman law.^
'; .t'As for the merits and deficiencies of legal instruction in
Italy and in France, an idea may be gained from the various
manuals that were prepared either for use in the schools of
law or for the practitioner. Because of the uncertainty,
however, of their age and provenance, it is difficult to connect
them with a definite foyer of instruction.
Until the opening of the twelfth century, or at all events
until the last quarter of the eleventh, the legal literature
evinces scarcely any originality or critical capacity. There
are glosses, epitomes, and collections of extracts, more or
less condensed or confused from whatever text the compiler
had before him. Little jurisprudential intelligence appears
in any writings which are known to precede the close of the
eleventh century ; none, for instance, in the epitomes of the
Breviarium and the glosses relating to that code ; none in
1 See Salvioli, Storia di diritto italiano, 3rd ed., 1899, pp. 84-go ; ibid.
L'Istruzione pubblica in Italia nei secoli VIII. IX. X. ; Taxdif, Hist, des sources
du droit frangais, p. 281 sqq. ; Savigny, Geschichte, etc., iv. pp. 1-9 ; Fitting,
" Zur Geschichte der Rechtswissenschaft im Mittelalter," Zeitschriftfiir Rges. Sav.
Stift., Roman. Ahteil., Bd. vi., 1885, pp. 94-186 ; ibid. Juristische Schriften des
frilheren Mittelalters, 108 sqq. (Halle, 1876).
^ A contemporary notice speaks of the enormous number of judges, lawyers,
and notaries in Milan about the year 1000. Salvioli, L'Istruzione pubblica, etc.,
p. 78. It is hard to imagine that no legal instruction could be had there.
^ The evidence is gathered in different parts of Savigny's Geschichte.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 281
those works of Italian origin the material for which was
drawn directly or indirectly from the Codex or Novels of
Justinian, for instance the Summa Perusina and the Lex
Romana canonice compta, both of which probably belong to
the ninth century. Such compilations were put together
for practical use, or perhaps as aids to teaching.
Thus, so far as inference may be drawn from the extant
writings, the legal teaching in any school during this long
period hardly rose above an uncritical and unenlightened
explanation of Roman law somewhat mediaevalized and
deflected from its classic form and substance. There was
also practical instruction in current legal forms and customs.
Interest in the law had not risen above practical needs, nor
was capacity shown for anything above a mechanical handling
of the matter. Legal study was on a level with the other
intellectual phenomena of the period.
In an opusculum ^ written shortly after the middle of the
eleventh century, Peter Damiani bears unequivocal, if some-
what hostile, witness to the study of law at Ravenna ; and it
is clear that in his time legal studies were progressing in
both France and Italy. It is unsafe to speak more definitely,
because of the difficulty in fixing the time and place of
certain rather famous pieces of legal literature, which show a
marked advance upon the productions to be ascribed with
certainty to an earlier time. The reference is to the Petri
exceptiones and the Brachylogus. The critical questions relat-
ing to the former are too complex even to outline here.
Both its time and place are in dispute. The ascribed dates
range from the third quarter of the eleventh century to the
first quarter of the twelfth, a matter of importance, since the
opening of the twelfth century is marked by the rise of the
Bologna school. As for the place, some scholars still adhere
to the south of France, while others look to Pavia or
Ravenna. On the whole, the weight of argument seems to
favour Italy and a date not far from 1075.2
The Petrus, as it is familiarly called, is drawn from
^ De parentelae gradibus, see Savigny, Geschichte, Bd. iv. p. i sqq.
" See Savigny, Geschichte, Bd. ii. pp. 134-163 (the text is published in an
Appendix to that volume, pp. 321-428) ; Conrat, Ges. der Quellen, etc., pp. 420-
549 ; Tardif, Hist, des sources du droit f ran fais, pp. 213-246.
282 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
immediately prior and still extant compilations. The
compiler wished to give a compendious if not systematic
presentation of law as accepted and approved in his time,
that is to say, of Roman law somewhat mediaevalized in tone,
and with certain extraneous elements from the Lombard
codes. The ultimate Roman sources were the Codification
of Justinian, and indeed all of it, Digest, Codex, and Novels,
the last in the form to which they had been brought in
Julian's Epitome. The purpose of the compilation is given
in the Prologue,^ which in substance is as follows :
" Since for many divers reasons, on account of the great and
manifold difficulties in the laws, even the Doctors of the laws
cannot without pains reach a certain opinion, we, taking account
of both laws, to wit, the jus civile and the jus naturale, unfold the
solution of controversies under plain and patent heads. What-
ever is found in the laws that is useless, void, or contrary to equity,
we trample under our feet. Whatever has been added and surely
held to, we set forth in its integral meaning so that nothing may
appear unjust or provocative of appeal from thy judgments,
Odilo ; 2 but all may make for the vigour of justice and the praise
of God."
The arrangement of topics in the Petrus hardly evinces
any clear design. The substance, however, is well presented.
If there be a question to be solved, it is plainly stated, and
the solution arrived at may be interesting. For example, a
case seems to have arisen where the son of one who died
intestate had seized the whole property to the exclusion
of the children of two deceased daughters. The sons of
one daughter acquiesced. The sons of the other per placitum
et guerram forced their uncle to give up their share.
Thereupon the supine cousins demanded to share in what
had so been won. The former contestants resisted on the
plea that the latter had borne no aid in the contest and that
they had obtained only their own portion. The decision
was that the supine cousins might claim their heritage from
whoever held it, and should receive their share in what the
^ This follows the so-called Tubingen MSS., the largest immediate source of
the Petrus. As well-nigh the entire substance of the Petrus is drawn from the
immediately prior compilations (which are still unpublished) its characteristics are
really theirs.
^ Apparently the chief magistrate of Valence : " Valentinae civitatis magistro
magnifico."
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 283
successful contestants had won ; but that the latter could
by counter-actions compel them to pay their share of the
necessary expenses of the prior contest. ^
Sometimes the Pefrus seems to draw a general rule of
law from the apparent instances of its application in
Justinian's Codification. Therein certain formalities were
prescribed in making a testament, in adopting a son, or
emancipating a slave. The Petrus draws from them the
general principle that where the law prescribes formalities,
the transaction is not valid if they are omitted. ^ In fine,
unsystematized as is its arrangement of topics, the work
presents an advance in legal intelligence over mediaeval law-
writings earlier than the middle of the eleventh century.
If the Petrus was adapted for use in practice, the
Brachylogus, on the other hand, was plainly a book of
elementary instruction, formed on the model of Justinian's
Institutes. But it made use of his entire codification, the
Novels, however, only as condensed in Julian's Epitome.
The influence of the Breviarium is also noticeable ; which
might lead one to think that the treatise was written in
Orleans or the neighbourhood, since the Breviarium was
not in use in Italy, while the Codification of Justinian was
known in France by the end of the eleventh century. The
beginning of the twelfth is the date usually given to the
Brachylogus. It does not belong to the Bologna school of
glossators, but rather immediately precedes them, wherever
it was composed.^
The Brachylogus, as a book of Institutes, compares
favourably with its model, from the language of which it
departed at will. Both works are divided into four lihri ;
but the lihri of the Brachylogus correspond better to the
logical divisions of the law. Again, frequently the author
of the Brachylogus breaks up the chapters of Justinian's
Institutes and gives the subject-matter under more pertinent
headings. Sometimes the statements of the older work
are improved by rearrangement. The definitions of the
^ Petri exceptiones , iii. 69. ^ Petrus, i. 66.
^ See Conrat, Ges. der Quellen, etc., 550-582 ; Tardif, Hist, des sources, etc.,
pp. 207-213 ; Fitting, ZeitschriftfUr Rges. Bd. vi. p. 141. It is edited by Becking
(Berlin, 1829) under the title of Corpus legum sive Brachylogus juris civilis.
284 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
Brachylogus are pithy and concise, even to a fault. Often
the exposition is well adapted to the purposes of an
elementary text-book,^ which was meant to be supplemented
by oral instruction. On the whole, the work shows that
the author is no longer encumbered by the mass or by
the advanced character of his sources. He restates their
substance intelligently, and thinks for himself. He is no
compiler, and his work has reached the rank of a treatise.
The merits of the Brachylogus as an elementary text-
book are surpassed by those of the so-called Summa Codicis
Irnerii, a book which may mark the beginning of the
Bologna school of law, and may even be the composition of
its founder. Many arguments are adduced for this author-
ship. ^ The book has otherwise been deemed a production
of the last days of the school of law at Rome just before the
school was broken up by some catastrophe as to which there
is little information. In that case the work would belong
to the closing years of the eleventh century, whereas the
authorship of Imerius would bring it to the beginning of the
twelfth. At all events, its lucid jurisprudential reasoning
precludes the likelihood of an earlier origin.
This Summa is an exposition of Roman law, following
the arrangement and titles of Justinian's Codex, but making
extensive use of the Digest. It thus contains Roman juris-
prudential law, and may be regarded as a compendious text-
book for law students, forming apparently the basis of a
course of lectures which treated the topics more at length.^
The author's command of his material is admirable, and his
presentation masterly. Whether he was Irnerius or some
one else, he was a great teacher. His work may be also
called academic, in that his standpoint is always that of the
Justinianean law, although he limits his exposition to those
topics which had living interest for the twelfth century.
Private substantial law forms the chief matter, but procedure
is set forth and penal law touched upon. The author
1 For instance, Brack, ii. 12, " De juris et facti ignorantia," is short and clear.
It follows mainly Digest xxii. 6.
^ Summa Codicis des Irnerius, ed. by Fitting (Berlin, 1894). See Introduction,
and also Fitting in Zeitschrift fUr Rechtsgeschichte, Bd. xvii. (1896), Romanische
Abteilung, pp. 1-96.
^ Cf. Summa Codicis Irnerii, vii. 23, and vii. 31. i.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 285
appreciates the historical development of the Roman law
and the character of its various sources — praetorian law,
constitutiones principum, and responsa prudentium. He also
shows independence, and a regard for legal reasoning and
the demands of justice. While he sets forth the jus civile,
his exposition and approval follow the dictates of the jus
naturale.
" The established laws are to be understood benignly, so as to
preserve their spirit, and prevent their departure from equity ;
for the Judge recognizes ordainments as legitimate when they
conform to the principles of justice {ratio equitatis). . . . Inter-
pretation is sometimes general and imperative, as when the law-
giver declares it : then it must be applied not only to the matter
for which it is announced, but in all like cases. Sometimes an
interpretation is imperative, but only for the special case, like
the interpretation which is declared by those adjudicating a
cause. It is then to be accepted in that cause, but not in like
instances ; for not by precedents, but by the laws are matters to
be adjusted. There is another kind of interpretation which binds
no one, that made by teachers explaining an ambiguous law, for
although it may be admissible because sound, stiU it compels no
one. For every interpretation should so be made as not to depart
from justice, and that all absurdity may be avoided and no door
opened to fraud." ^
One must suppose that such concise statements were
explained and qualified in the author's lectures. But even
as they stand, they afford an exposition of Roman principles
of interpretation. Not only under the Roman Empire, but
subsequently in mediaeval times, the Roman lawyer or the
canonist did not pay the deference to adjudicated precedent
which is felt by the English or American judge. The
passage in the Codex which " Imerius " was expounding
commands that the judge, in deciding a case, shall follow
the laws and the reasoning of the great jurists, rather than
the decision of a like controversy.
Since the author of this Summa weighs the justice, the
reason, and the convenience of the laws, and compares them
with each other, his book is a work of jurisprudence. Its
qualities may be observed in its discussion of possession and
the rights arising therefrom. The writer has just been
1 Summa Codicis Irnerii, i. 14. The corresponding passages in Justinian's
Codification are Dig. i. 3, lex 12 and 38, and Codex vii. 45, lex 13.
286 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
expounding the usucapio, an institution of the jus civile
strictly speaking, whereby the law of Rome in certain
instances protected and, after three years, perfected, the title
to property which one had in good faith acquired from a
vendor who was not the owner :
" Now we must discuss the ratio possessionis. Usucapio in the
jus civile hinges on possession, and ownership by the jus naturale
may take its origin in possession. There are many differences
in the ways of acquiring possession, which must be considered.
And since in the constitutiones and responsa prudentium divers
reasons are adduced regarding possession, my associates have
begged that I would expound this important and obscure subject
in which is mingled the ratio both of the civil and the natural
law. So I will do my best. First one must consider what
possession is, how it is acquired, maintained, or lost. Possession
(here the author foUows Paulus and Labeo in the Digest) is as
when one's feet are set upon a thing, when body naturally rests
on body. To acquire possession is to begin to possess. Herein
one considers both the fact and the right. The fact arises through
ourselves or our representative. It is understood differently as
to movables and as to land ; for the movable we take in our hand,
but we take possession of a farm by going upon it with this intent
and laying hold of a sod. The intent to possess is crucial. Thus
a ring put in the hand of a sleeper is not possessed for lack of
intent on his part. You possess naturally when with mind and
body (yours or another's who represents you) you hold or sit
upon with intent to possess. Corporeal things you properly
possess, and acquire possession of, by your own or your agent's
hand. In the same manner you retain. Incorporeal things
cannot be possessed properly speaking, but the civil law accords
a quasi possession of them."
Then follows a discussion of the persons through whom
another may have possession, and of the various modes of
possessing longa manu without actual touch :
"It is one thing when the possession begins with you, and
another when it is transferred to you by a prior possessor : for
possession begins in three ways, by occupation, accession, and
transfer. You occupy the thing that belongs to no one. By
accession you acquire possession in two ways. Thus the incre-
ment may be possessed, as the fruit of thy handmaid ; or the
accession consists in the union with a larger thing which is yours,
as when alluvium is deposited on your land. Again possession
is transferred to you,"
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 287
voluntarily or otherwise. He now discusses the various
modes in which possession is acquired by transfer, then the
nature of the justa or injusta causa with which possession
may begin, and the effect on the rights of the possessor, and
then some matters more peculiar to the time of Justinian.
After which he passes to the loss of possession, and concludes
with saying that he has endeavoured to go over the whole
subject, and whatever is omitted or insufficiently treated, he
begs that it be laid to the fault of humanae imhecillitatis.
The discussion reads like a carefully drawn outline which his
lecture should expand.^
The knowledge and understanding of the Roman law in
the mediaeval centuries should be viewed in conjunction with
the general progress of intellectual aptitude during the same
periods. The growth of legal knowledge will then show
itself as a part of mediaeval development, as one phase
of the flowering of the mediaeval intellect. For the treat-
ment of Roman law presents stages essentially analogous to
those by which the Middle Ages reached their imderstand-
ing and appropriation of other portions of their great
inheritance from classical antiquity and the Christianity of
the Fathers. Let us recapitulate : the Roman law, adapted,
or corrupted if one will, epitomized and known chiefly in its
later enacted forms, was never unapplied nor the study of it
quite abandoned. It constituted a great part of the law of
Italy and southern France ; in these two regions likewise
was its study least neglected. We have observed the super-
ficial and mainly linguistic nature of the glosses which this
early mediaeval period interlined or wrote on the margins of
the source-books drawn upon, also the rude and barbarous
nature of the earlier summaries and compilations. They
were helps to a crude practical knowledge of the law.
Gradually the treatment seems to become more intelligent, a
little nearer the level of the matter excerpted or made use
of. Through the eleventh century it is evident that social
conditions were demanding and also facilitating an increase
in legal knowledge ; and at that century's close a by no
means stupid compilation appears, the Petri exceptiones, and
1 Summa Codicis Irnerii, vii. 22 and 23. The chief Justinianean sources are
Dig. xli. 2, and Cod. xii. 32.
288 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
perhaps such a fairly inteUigent manual for elementary
instruction as the Brachylogus. These works indicate that
the instruction in the law was improving. We have also
the sparse references to schools of law, at Rome, at Ravenna,
at Orleans. Then we come upon the Summa Codicis called
of Imerius, of uncertain provenance, like the Petrus and
Brachylogus. But there is no need to be informed specifically
of its place and date in order to recognize its advance in
legal intelligence, in veritable jurisprudence. The writer was
a master of the law, an adept in its exposition, and his oral
teaching must have been of a high order. With this book
we have unquestionably touched the level of the strong be-
ginnings of the greatest of mediaeval schools of Roman law.
Its seat was Bologna, one of the chief centres of the
civic and commercial life of Lombardy. The Lombards
themselves had shown a persistent legal genius : their own
Teutonic codes, enacted in Italy, had maintained themselves
in that land of Roman law and custom. Lombard codifica-
tion had almost reached a jurisprudence of its own, at Pavia,
the juridical centre of Lombardy. The provisions of various
codes had been compared and put together in a sort of
Concordia, as early as the ninth century.^ Possibly the
rivalry of Lombard law might stimulate those learned in the
law of Rome to sharper efforts to expound it and prove its
superiority. Moreover, all sides of civic life and culture were
flourishing in that region where novel commercial relations
were calling for a corresponding progress in the law, and
especially for a better knowledge of the Roman law which
alone afforded provision for their regulation.
As some long course of human development approaches
its climax, the advance apparently becomes so rapid as to
give the impression of something suddenly happening, a
sudden leap upward of the human spirit. The velocity of
the movement seems to quicken as the summit is neared.
One easily finds examples, for instance, the fifth century
before Christ in Greek art, or the fourth century in Greek
philosophy, or again the excellence so quickly reached
apparently by the Middle High German poetry just about
^ See Salvioli, Manuale, etc., pp. 65-68 ; ibid. U Istruzione pubblica in Italia,
pp. 72-75 ; Brunner, Deutsche Rechtsgeschichte, i. p. 387 sqq.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 289
the year 1200. But may not the seeming suddenness of
the phenomenon be due to lack of information as to
antecedents ? and the flare of the final achievement even
darken what went before ? Yet, in fact, as a movement
nears its climax, it may become more rapid. For, as the
promoting energies and favouring conditions meet in con-
junction, their joint action becomes more effective. Forces
free themselves from cumbrances and draw aid from one
another. Thus when the gradual growth of intellectual
faculty effects a conjunction with circumstances which offer
a fair field, and the prizes of life as a reward, a rapid increase
of power may evince itself in novel and timely productivity.
This may suggest the manner of the apparently sudden
rise of the Bologna school of Roman law, which, be it noted,
took place but a little before the time of Gratian's achieve-
ment in the Canon law, itself contemporaneous with the
appearance of Peter Lombard's novel Books of Sentences}
The preparation, although obscure, existed ; and the school
after its commencement passed onward through stages of
development, to its best accomplishment, and then into a
condition of stasis, if not decline. Imerius apparently was
its first master ; and of his life little is known. He was a
native of Bologna. His name as causidicus is attached to a
State paper of the year 11 13. Thereafter he appears in the
service of the German emperor, Henry V. We have no
sure trace of him after 1118, though there is no reason to
suppose that he did not live and labour for some further
years. He had taught the Arts at Ravenna and Bologna
before teaching, or perhaps seriously studying, the law. But
his career as a teacher of the law doubtless began before the
year 1113, when he is first met with as a man of affairs.
Accounts agree in ascribing to him the foundation of the
school.
Unless the Summa Codicis already mentioned, and a book
of Quaestiones, be really his, his glosses upon Justinian's
Digest, Codex, and Novels, are all we have of him ; ^ of the
1 Post, Chapter XXXVI., i.
^ The Bologna school is commonly called the school of the glossators. Their
work was to expound the law of Justinian ; and their glosses, or explanatory
notes, were the part of their writings which had the most permanent influence.
VOL. II U
290 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
rest we know by report. The glosses themselves indicate
that this jurist had been a grammarian, and used the
learning of his former profession in his exposition of the law.
His interlinear glosses are explanations of words, and would
seem to represent his earlier, more tentative, work when he
was himself learning the meaning of the law. But the
marginal glosses are short expositions of the passages to
which they are attached, and perhaps belong to the time of
his fuller command over the legal material. They indicate,
besides, a critical consideration of the text, and even of the
original connection which the passage in the Digest held in
the work of the jurisconsult from which it had been taken.
Some of them show an understanding of the chronological
sequence of the sources of the Roman law, e.g. that the law-
making power had existed in the people and then passed to
the emperors. These glosses of Imerius represent a clear
advance in jurispnidence over any previous legal comment
subsequent to the Interpretatio attached to the Breviarium.
It was also part of his plan to equip his manuscripts of the
Codex with extracts taken from the text of the Novels, and
not from the Epitome of Julian. He appears also as a
lawyer versed in the practice of the law. For he wrote a
book of forms for notaries and a treatise on procedure,
neither of which is extant.^
The accomplishment of the Bologna school may be
judged more fully from the works, still extant, of some of its
chief representatives in the generations following Imerius.
A worthy one was Placentinus, a native of Piacenza. The
year of his birth is imknown, but he died in 1192, after a
presumably full span of life, passed chiefly as a student and
teacher of the law. He taught in Mantua and MontpeUier,
as well as in Bologna. He was an accomplished jurist and
a lover of the classic literature. His work entitled De
varietate actionum was apparently the first attempt to set
The glosses were originally written between the lines or on the margins of the
codices of the Digest, Codex, Novels, and Institutes.
^ Savigny gives examples of Irnerius's glosses in an appendix to the fourth
volume of his Geschichte. Pescatore {Die Glossen des Irneriiis, Greifswald, 1888)
maintains that Savigny overstates the difference between the interlinear and
the marginal glosses of Irnerius.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 291
forth the Roman law in an arrangement and form that did
not follow the sources.^ He opens his treatise with an
allegory of a noble dame, named Jurisprudentia, within the
circle of whose sweet and honied utterances many eager
youths were thronging. Placentinus drew near, and received
from her the book which he now gives to others.^ This little
allegory savours of the De consolatione of Boethius, or, if one
will, of Capella's De nuptiis Philologiae.
The most admirable surviving work of Placentinus is his
Summa of the Codex of Justinian. His autobiographical
proemium shows him not lacking in self-esteem, and tells
why he undertook the work. He had thought at first to
complete the Summa of Rogerius, an older glossator, but
then decided to put that book to sleep, and compose a full
Summa of the Codex himself, from the beginning to the end.
This by the favour of God he has done ; it is the work of
his own hands, from head to heel, and all the matter is his
own — ^not borrowed. Next he wrote for beginners a Summa
of the Institutes. After which he returned to his own town,
and shortly proceeded thence to Bologna, whither he had
been called. " There in the citadel {in castello) for two
years I expounded the laws to students ; I brought the
other teachers to the threshold of envy ; I emptied their
benches of students. The hidden places of the law I laid
open, I reconciled the conflicts of enactments, I unlocked
the secrets most potently." His success was great, and he
was besought to continue his course of lectures. He
complied, and remained two years more, and then returned
to Montpellier, in order to compose a Summa of the Digest.^
If indeed Placentinus speaks bombastically of his work, its
excellence excuses him. His well-earned reputation as a
jurist and scholar long endured.
Quaestiones, Distinctiones, Libri disputationum, Summae of
the Codex or the Institutions, and other legal writings, are
extant in goodly bulk and number from the Bologna school.
The names of the men are almost legion, and many were of
1 On Placentinus see Savigny, Geschichte, iv. pp. 244-285.
^ Proemium to De var. acUonum, given by Savigny, iv. p. 540.
^ This is from the proemium attached to one old edition, and is given in Sav.
Ges. iv. p. 245. In an appendix, p. 542, Savigny gives an even more florid
proemium to the Summa Codicis from a manuscript.
292 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
great repute in their day both as jurists and as men of
affairs. We may mention Azo and Accursius, of a little
later time. Azo's name appears in public documents from
the year 1190 to 1220 — and he may have survived the
latter date by some years. His works were of such compass
and excellence as to supersede those of his predecessors.
His glosses still survive, and his Lectura on the Codex, his
Summae of the Codex and the Institutes, and his Quaestiones,
and Brocarda, the last a sort of work stating general legal
propositions and those contradicting them. Azo's glosses
were so complete as to constitute a continuous exposition of
the entire legislation of Justinian. His Summae of the
Codex and Institutes drove those of Placentinus out of use,
which we note with a smile.^
None of the glossators is better known than Accursius.
He comes before us as a Florentine, and apparently a
peasant's son. He died an old man rich and famous, about
the year 1260. Azo was his teacher. In 1252 he was
Podesta of Bologna, which indicates the respect in which
men held him. Villani, the Florentine historian, describes
him as of martial form, grave, thoughtful, even melancholy in
aspect, as if always meditating ; a man of brilliant talents
and extraordinary memory, sober and chaste in life, but
delighting in noble vesture. His hearers drank in the laws
of living from his mien and manners no less than from
the dissertations of his mouth. ^ Late in life he retired to his
villa, and there in quiet worked on his great Glossa tUl he
died.
This famous, perhaps all too famous, Glossa ordinaria
was a digest and, as it proved, a final one, of the glosses
of his predecessors and contemporaries. He drew not only
from their glosses, but also on their Summae and other
writings. He added a good deal of his own. Great as
was the feat, the somewhat deadened talent of a compiler
shows in the result, which flattened out the individual
labours of so many jurists. It came at once into general
use in the courts and outside of them ; for it was a complete
commentary on the Justinianean law, so compendious and
1 On Azo see Savigny, Ges. v. pp. 1-44.
^ Quoted by Savigny. On Accursius see Sav. Ges. v. pp. 262-305.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 293
convenient that there was no further need of the glosses of
earHer men. This book marked the turning-point of the
Bologna school, after which its productivity lessened. Its
work was done : Codex, Novels, and above all the Pandects
were rescued from oblivion, and fully expovmded, so far
as the matter in them was still of interest. When the
labours of the school had been conveniently heaped together
in one huge Glossa, there was no vital inducement to
do this work again. The school of the glossators was
functus officio. Naturally with the lessening of the call,
productivity diminished. Little was left to do save to
gloss the glosses, an epigonic labour which would not attract
men of talent. Moreover, treating the older glosses, instead
of the original text, as the matter to be interpreted was
unfavourable to progress in the understanding of the latter.
Yet, for a little, the breath of life was still to stir in
the school of the glossators. There was a man of fame,
a humanist indeed, named Cino, whose beautiful tomb still
draws the lover of things lovely to Pistoia. Cino was also
a jurist, and it came to him to be the teacher of one whose
name is second to none among the legists of the Middle
Ages. This was Bartolus, bom probably in the year 13 14
at Sassoferrato in the duchy of Urbino. He was a scholar,
learned in geometry and Hebrew, also a man of affairs.
He taught the law at Pisa and Perugia, and in the last-
named town he died in 1357, not yet forty-four years old.
Bartolus wrote and compiled full commentaries on the
entire Corpus juris civilis ; and yet he produced no work
differing in kind from works of his predecessors. Moreover,
between him and the body of the law rose the great mass
of gloss and comment already in existence, through which
he did not always penetrate to the veritable Corpus. Yet
his labours were inspired with the energy of a vigorous
nature, and he put fresh thoughts into his commentaries.^
The school of glossators presented the full Roman law
to Europe. The careful and critical interpretation of the
text of Justinian's Codification, of the Digest above all, was
their great service. In performing it, these jurists also had
educated themselves and developed their own intelligence.
^ On Bartolus see Savigny, Ges. etc. vi. pp. 137-184.
294 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
They had also put together in Summae the results of their
own education in the law. These works facilitated legal
study and sharpened the faculties of students and professors.
Books of Quaestiones, legal disputations, works upon legal
process and formulae, served the same ends.^ These men
were deficient in historical knowledge. Yet they compared
Digest, Codex, and Novels ; they tried to re-establish the
purity of the text ; they weighed and they expounded.
Theirs was an intellectual effort to master the jurisprudence
of Rome : their labours constituted a renaissance of juris-
prudence ; and the fact that they were often men of affairs
as well as professors, kept them from ignoring the practical
bearings of the matters which they taught.
The work of the glossators may be compared with that
of the theologian philosophers of the thirteenth century —
Alexander of Hales, Albertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas —
who were winning for the world a new and comprehensive
knowledge of Aristotle. Both jurists and philosophers, in
their different spheres, carried through a more profound
study, and reached a more comprehensive knowledge, of a
great store of antique thought, than previous mediaeval
centuries conceived of. Moreover, the interpretation of
the Corpus juris was quite as successful as the interpreta-
tion of Aristotle. It was in fact surer, because freer from
the deflections of religious motive. No consideration of
agreement or disagreement with Scripture troubled the
glossators' interpretation of the Digest, though indeed they
may have been interested in finding support for whatever
political views they held upon the claims of emperor and
pope. But this did not disturb them as much as Aristotle's
opinion that the universe was eternal, worried Albertus and
Aquinas.
IV
The Church, from the time of its first recognition by the
Roman Empire, lived under the Roman law ; ^ and the
^ Cf. Savigny, Ges. v. pp. 222-261. Prof. Vinogradoff's admirable Roman
Law in Mediaeval Europe (Harpers, 1909), is packed with illuminating information.
^ " Ecclesia vivit lege Romana," Lex Ribuaria, 58. This was vmiversally
recognized, although the individual clericus might remain amenable to the law of
his birth.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 295
constitutions safeguarding its authority were large and
ample before the Empire fell. Constantine, to be sure,
never dreamed of the famous " Donation of Constantine "
forged by a later time, yet his enactments fairly launched
the great mediaeval Catholic Chiurch upon the career which
was to bring it more domination than was granted in this
pseudo-charter of its power. A mmiber of Constantine's
enactments were preserved by the Theodosian Code, in
which the powers and privileges of Chmrch and clergy were
portentously set forth.
The Theodosian Code freed the property of the Church
from most fiscal biurdens, and the clergy from taxes, from
public and military service, and from many other obligations
which sometimes the Code groups under the head of sordida
munera. The Church might receive all manner of bequests,
and it inherited the property of such of its clergy as did
not leave near relatives surviving them. Its property
generally was inalienable ; and the clergy were accorded
many special safeguards. Slaves might be manumitted in
a church. The church edifices were declared asylums of
refuge from pursuers, a. privilege which had passed to the
churches from the heathen fanes and the statues of the
emperors. Constitution after constitution was hurled
against the Church's enemies. The Theodosian Code has
one chapter containing sixty -six constitutions directed
against heretics, the combined result of which was to
deprive them, if not of life and property, at least of protected
legal existence.
Of enormous import was the sweeping recognition on
the Empire's part of the validity of episcopal jurisdiction.
No bishop might be summoned before a secular court as a
defendant, or compelled to give testimony. Falsely to
accuse one of the clergy rendered the accuser infamous.
All matters pertaining to religion and church discipline
might be brought only before the bishop's court, which
likewise had plenary jurisdiction over controversies among
the clergy. It was also open to the laity for the settlement
of civil disputes. The command not to go to law before
the heathen came down from Paul (i Cor. vi.), and together
with the severed and persecuted condition of the early
296 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
Christian communities, may be regarded as the far source
of the episcopal jurisdiction, which thus divinely sanctioned
tended to extend its arbitrament to all manner of legal
controversies.^ To be sure, under the Christian Roman
Empire the authority of the Church as well as its privileges
rested upon imperial law. Yet the emperors recognized,
rather than actually created, the ecclesiastical authority.
And when the Empire was shattered, there stood the Church
erect amid the downfall of the imperial government, and
capable of supporting itself in the new Teutonic kingdoms.
The constitutions of Christian emperors did not from
their own force and validity become Ecclesiastical or Canon
law — the law relating to Christians as such, and especially
to the Church and its functions. The source of that law
was God ; the Church was its declarative organ. Accept-
ance on the Church's part was requisite before any secular
law could become a law of the Church.
Canon law may be taken to include theology, or may
be limited to the law of the organization and functions of
the Church taken in a large sense as inclusive of the laity
in their relations to the religion of Christ.^ Obviously
part comes from Christ directly, through the Old Testament
as well as New. The other part, and in bulk far greater,
emanates from His foimdation, the Church, under the guid-
ance of His Spirit, and may be added to and modified by
the Church from age to age. It is expressed in custom,
universal and established, and it is found in written form
in the works of the Fathers, in the decrees of Councils, in
the decretals of the popes, and in the concordats and conven-
tions with secular sovereignties. From the beginning, canon
law tacitly or expressly adopted the constitutions of the
Christian emperors relating to the Church, as well as the
Roman law generally, under which the Church lived in its
civil relations.
The Church arose within the Roman Empire, and who
^ For these matters see primarily the sixteenth book of the Theodosian Code,
and book i. chap. 27. Also the suspected Constitutiones Sirmondianae attached
to that Code. Justinian's Codex and Novellae add much. Zorn, in his Kirchen-
recht, p. 29 sqq., gives a convenient synopsis of the matter.
* One observes that the opening chapter of Justinian's Digest speaks of juris-
prudentia as knowledge of divine as well as human matters.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 297
shall say that its wonderfully efficient and complete organiza-
tion at the close of the patristic period was not the final
creation of the legal and constructive genius of Rome,
newly inspired by the spirit of Christianity ? But the
centre of interest had been transferred from earth to heaven,
and human aims had been recast by the Gospel and the
understanding of it reached by Christian doctors. Evidently
since the ideals of the Church were to be other than those
of the Roman Empire, the law which it accepted or evolved
would have ideals different from those of the Roman law.
If the great Roman jurists created a legal formulation and
rendering of justice adequate for the highly developed social
and commercial needs of Roman citizens, the law of the
Church, while it might borrow phrases, rules, and even
general principles, from that system, could not fail to put
new meaning in them. For example, the constant will to
render each his due, which was justitia in the Roman law,
might involve different considerations where the soul's
salvation, and not the just allotment of the goods of this
world, was the law's chief aim. Again, what new meaning
might attach to the honeste vivere and the alterum non
laedere of pagan legal ethics. Honeste vivere might mean
to do no sin imperilling the soul ; alterum non laedere would
acquire the meaning of doing nothing to another which
might impede his progress toward salvation. Injuries to a
man in his temporalities were less important.
Further, Christianity although conceived as a religion
for all mankind, was founded on a definite code and revela-
tion. The primary statement was contained in the canoni-
cal books of the Old and New Testaments. These were
for all men, universal in application and of irrefragable
validity and truth. Here was some correspondence to the
conception of the jus gentium as representative of imiversal
principles of justice and expediency, and therefore as equiva-
lent to the jus naturale. There was something of logical
necessity in the transference of this conception to the law
of Christ. Says Gratian at the beginning of his Decretum :
"It is jus naturae which is contained in the Law and the
Gospel, by which every one is commanded to do to another
as he would be done by, and forbidden to inflict on him
298 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
what he does not wish to happen to himself." Since the
Law and the Gospel represent the final law of life for all
men, they are par excellence the jus naturae, as well as lex
divina. Gratian quotes from Augustine : " Divinum jus in
scripturis divinis habemus, humanum in legibus regum." ^
And then adds : " By its authority the jus naturale prevails
over custom and constitution. Whatever in customs or
writings is contrary to the jus naturale is to be held vain
and invalid." Again he says more explicitly : " Since
therefore nothing is commanded by natural law other than
what God wills to be, and nothing is forbidden except what
God prohibits, and since nothing may be found in the
canonical Scripture except what is in the divine laws, the
laws will rest divinely in nature {divine leges natura con-
sistent). It is evident, that whatever is proved to be
contrary to the divine will or canonical Scripture, is like-
wise opposed to natural law. Wherefore whatever should
give way before divine will or Scripture or the divine laws,
over that ought the jus naturale to prevail. Therefore
whatever ecclesiastical or secular constitutions are contrary
to natural law are to be shut out." ^
The canon law is a vast sea. Its growth, its age-long
agglomerate accretion, the systematization of its huge
contents, have long been subjects for controversialists and
scholars. Its sources were as multifarious as those of the
Roman law. First the Scriptures and the early quasi-
apostolic and pseudo-apostolic writings ; then the traditions
of primitive Christianity and also the writings of the Fathers ;
likewise ecclesiastical customs, long accepted and legitimate,
and finally the two great written sources, the decretals or
decisions of the popes and the decrees of councils. From
patristic times, collections were made of the last. These
collections from a chronological gradually acquired a topical
and more systemic arrangement, which the compilers
followed more completely after the opening of the tenth
century. The decisions of the popes also had been collected,
and then were joined to conciliar compilations and arranged
after the same topical plan.
1 Decretum, i. dist. viii. c. i.
2 Decretum, i. dist. ix. c. xi. ; see ibid. dist. xiii., opening.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 299
In all of them there was unauthentic matter, accepted
as if its pseudo-authorship or pseudo-source were genuine.
But in the stormy times of the ninth century following the
death of Charlemagne, the method of argument through
forged authority was exceptionally creative. It produced
two masterpieces which won universal acceptance. The
first was a collection of false Capitularies ascribed to
Charlemagne and Louis the Pious, and ostensibly the work
of a certain Benedictus Levita, deacon of the Church of
Mainz, who worked in the middle of the century. Far
more famous and important was the book of False Decretals,
put together and largely written, that is forged, about the
same time, probably in the diocese of Rheims, and appear-
ing as the work of Saint Isidore of Seville. This contained
many forged letters of the early popes and other forged
matter, including the Epistle or " Donation " of Constantine ;
also genuine papal letters and conciliar decrees. These
false collections were accepted by councils and popes, and
formed part of subsequent compilations.
From the tenth century onward many such compilations
were made, all of them uncritical as to the genuineness of
the matter taken, and frequently ill-arranged and discordant.
They were destined to be superseded by the great work in
which appears the better methods and more highly trained
intelligence developing at the Bologna school in the first
part of the twelfth century. Its author was Gratianus, a
monk of the monastery of St. Felix at Bologna. He was
a younger contemporary of Imerius and of Peter Lombard.
Legend made him the latter's brother, with some pro-
priety ; for the compiler of those epoch-making Sentences
represents the same stage in the appropriation of the
patristic theological heritage of the Middle Ages, that
Gratian represents in the handling of the canon law. The
Lombard's Sentences made a systematic and even harmoniz-
ing presentation of the theology of the Fathers in their
own language ; and the equally immortal Decretum of
Gratian accomplished a like work for the canon law.
This is the name by which his work is known, but not the
name he gave it. That appears to have been Concordia
discordantium canonum, which indicates his methodical
300 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
presentation of his matter and his endeavour to reconcile
conflicting propositions.
The first part of the Decretum was entitled " De jure
naturae et constitutionis." It presents the sources of the
law, the Church's organization and administration, the
ordination and ranking of the clergy, the election and
consecration of bishops, the authority of legates and
primates. The second part treats of the procedure of
ecclesiastical courts, also the law regulating the property of
the Church, the law of monks and the contract of marriage.
The third part is devoted to the Sacraments and the
Liturgy.
Gratian's usual method is as follows : He will open
with an authoritative proposition. If he finds it universally
accepted, it stands as valid. But if there are opposing
statements, he tries to reconcile them, either pointing out
the difference in date (for the law of the Church may be
progressive), or showing that one of the discordant rules
had but local or otherwise limited application, or that
the first proposition is the rule, while the others make
the exceptions. If he still fails to establish concord, he
searches to find which rule had been followed in the Roman
Church, and accepts that as authoritative. A rule being
thus made certain, he proceeds with subdivisions and
distinctions, treating them as deductions from the main
rule and adjusting the supporting texts. Or he will suppose
a controversy {causa) and discuss its main and secondary
issues. Throughout he accompanies his authoritative matter
with his own commentary — commonly cited as the Dicta
Gratiani} The Decretum was characterized by sagacity
of interpretation and reconcilement, by vast learning, and
clear ordering of the matter. Only it was uncritical as to
the genuineness of its materials ; and a number of Gratian's
own statements were subsequently disapproved in papal
decretals. The Dicta Gratiani never received such formal
sanction by pope or council as the writings of Roman
jurists received by being taken into Justinian's Digest.
The papal decretals had become the great source of
^ Tardif, Sources du droit canonique, p. 175 sqq., has been chiefly followed
here.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 301
canonical law. Gratian's work was soon supplemented by
various compilations known as Appendices ad Decretum or
Decretales extravagantes, to wit, those which the Decretum
did not contain. These, however, were superseded by the
collection, or rather codification, made at the command of
the great canonist Gregory IX. and completed in the year
1234. This authoritative work preserved Gratian's Decretum
intact, but suppressed, or abridged and reordered, the
decretals contained in subsequent collections. Arranged
in five books, it forms the second part of the Corpus juris
canonici. In 1298 Boniface VIII. promulgated a supple-
mentary book known as the Sextus of Boniface. This
with a new collection promulgated under the authority of
Clement V. in 1313, called the Clementinae, and the
Extravagantes of his successor John XXII. and certain
other popes, constitute the last portions of the Corpus
juris canonici}
According to the law of the Empire the emperor's
authority extended over the Church, its doctrine, its dis-
cipline, and its property. Such authority was exercised
by the emperors from Constantine to Justinian. But the
Church had always stood upon the principle that it was
better to obey God rather than man. This had been
maintained against the power of the pagan Empire, and
was not to be sunned out of existence by imperial favour.
It was still better to obey God rather than the emperor.
The Church still should say who were its members and
entitled to participate in the salvation which it mediated.
Ecclesiastical authorities could excommunicate ; that was
their engine of coercion. These principles were incarnate
in Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, withstanding and prohibiting
Theodosius from Christian fellowship imtil he had done
penance for the massacre at Thessalonica. Of necessity
they inhered in the Church ; they were of the essence of
^ On the above matters see (with the authorities and bibliographies therein
given) Maasen, Geschichte der Quellen, etc., der canonischen Rechts (Bd. i., to the
middle of the ninth century) ; Tardif, Sources du droit canonique (Paris, 1887) ;
Zorn, Lehrbuch des Kirchenrechts (Stuttgart, 1888) ; Gerlach, Lehrbuch des catho-
lischen Kirchenrechts (5th edition, Paderborn, 1890). Hinschius, Decretales
pseudo-Isidorianae (Leipzig, 1863) ; Corpus juris canonici, ed. by Friedberg
(Leipzig, 1879-1881).
302 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
its strength to fulfil its purpose ; they stood for the duly
constituted power of Christian resolution to uphold and
advance the peremptory truth of Christ.
So such principles persisted through the time of the
hostile and then the favouring Roman Empire. And when
the Empire in fact crumbled and fell, what de facto and de
jure authority was best fitted to take the place of the imperial
supremacy ? The Empire represented a universal secular
dominion ; the Church was also imiversal, and with a
universality now reaching out beyond the Empire's shrinking
boundaries. In the midst of political fragments otherwise
disjoined, the Church endured as the universal unity. The
power of each Teutonic king was great in fact and law within
his realm. Yet he was but a local potency, while the Church
existed through his and other realms. And when the power
of one Teutonic line (the Carolingian) reached something
like universal sway, the Church was also there within and
without. It held the learning of the time, and the culture
which large-minded seculars respected ; and quite as much
as the empire of Charlemagne, it held the prestige of Rome.
Witness the attitude of Charles Martel and Pippin toward
Boniface the great apostle, and the attitude of Boniface
toward the Gregories whose legate he proclaimed himself,
and upon whose central authority he based his claims to be
obeyed. Through the reforms of the Prankish Church,
carried out by him with the support of Charles Martel and
Pippin, the ecclesiastical supremacy of Rome was established.
Charlemagne, indeed, from the nature and necessities of his
own transcendent power, possessed in fact the ecclesiastical
authority of the Roman emperors, whom men deemed his
predecessors. But after him the secular power fell again
into fragments scarcely locally efficient, while the Church's
universality of authority endured.
In the unstable fragmentation of secular rule in the ninth
century, the Isidorean Decretals presented the truth of the
situation as it was to be, although not as it had been in the
times of the Church dignitaries whose names were forged for
that collection. And thereafter, as the Church recovered
from its tenth-century disintegration, it advanced to the
pragmatic demonstration of the validity of those false
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 303
Decretals, on through the tempests of the age of Hildebrand
to the final triumph of Innocent III. at the opening of the
thirteenth century. Evidently the canon law, whatever
might be its immediate or remote source, drew its authority
from the sanction of the Roman Cathohc Church, which
enimciated it and made it into a body corresponding to the
Church's functions. It was what the Church promulgated
as the law of the ecclesiastical hierarchy and the kingdom
of God on earth. It should be the temporal and legal
counterpart of the Church's spiritual purposes. Its general
tendency and purpose was the promotion of the Church's
saving aim, which regarded all things in the light of their
relationship to life eternal. Therefore the Church's law
could not but define and consider all worldly interests, all
personal and property rights and secular authority, with
constant regard to men's need of salvation. The advance-
ment of that must be the final appellate standard of legal
right.
Such was the event . The entire canon law might be lodged
within those propositions which Hildebrand enunciated
and Innocent III. realized. For the salvation of souls, all
authority on earth had been entrusted by Christ to Peter
and his successors. Theirs was the spiritual sword ; secular
power, the material sword, was to be exercised under the
pope's mandate and permission. No king or emperor, no
layman whatsoever, was exempt from the supreme authority
of the pope, who also was the absolute head of the Church,
which had become a monarchy. " The Lord entrusted to
Peter not only the universal Church, but the government of
the whole world," writes Innocent III., whose pontificate
almost made this principle a fact. In private matters no
member of the clergy could be brought before a secular
court ; and the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts over
the laity threatened to reduce the secular jurisdiction to
narrow functions.^ The property of the Church might not
1 Jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts embraced marriage and divorce,
wills and inheritance, and, by virtue of their surveillance of usury and vows and
oaths, practically the whole relationship between debtor and creditor. Prevalent
mediaeval principles, at once economic, legal and theological, as to the rights of
buyers and sellers (justum pretium, etc.), and as to usury, made part of the canon
law and could be properly presented in connection with it and the theologies of
304 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
be taxed or levied on by any temporal ruler or government ;
nor could the Church's functions and authority be controlled
or limited by any secular decree. Universally throughout
every kingdom the Church was a sovereignty, not only in
matters spiritual, but with respect to all the personal and
material relationships that might be connected in anyway
with the welfare of souls.^
The exposition of the Corpus juris civilis in the school
of the glossators was of great moment in the evolution of
mediaeval political theory, which in its turn yields one more
example of the mediaeval application of thoughts derived
from antique and patristic sources. Political thinking in
the Middle Ages sought its surest foundation in theology ;
then it built itself up with concepts drawn from the philosophy
and social theory of the antique world ; and lastly it laid
hold on jurisprudence, using the substance and reasoning of
the Roman and the Canon law.
Mediaeval ideas upon government and the relations
between the individual and his earthly sovereign, started
from theological premises, of patristic origin : e.g. that the
universe and man were made by God, a miraculous creation,
springing from no other cause, and subject to no other
fundamental law, than God's unsearchable will, which never
ceases to direct the whole creation to the Creator's ends.
A further premise was the Scriptural revelation of God's
purpose as to man, with all the contents of that revelation
touching the overweening importance of man's deathless soul.
Unity — the unity of the creation — springs from these
premises, or is one of them. The principle of this unity
is God's will. Within the universal whole, mankind also
constitutes a unit, a commimity, specially ordained and
the Scholastics. Thomas Aquinas discusses such matters in Summa Theol. II.
ii., Quaestio 77. Cf. generally W. J. Ashley, English Economic History ; Troeltsch,
Die Sociallehren der christlichen Kitchen (Tubingen, 1912).
^ Volume ii. of R. W. and A. J. Carlyle's History of Mediaeval Political Theory
in the West (1909) maintains that the statements of papal pretensions which were
incorporated in the recognized collections of Decretals were less extreme than those
■emanating from the papacy under stress of controversy.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 305
ordered. The Middle Ages, delivered over to allegory and
to an unbridled recognition of the deductions of allegorical
reasoning, argued thus : Mankind is a community ; mankind
is also an organism, the mystical body whereof the head is
Christ. Here was an allegory potent for foolishness or wisdom.
It was used to symboUze the mystery of the oneness of all
mankind in God, and the organic co-ordination of all sorts
and conditions of men with one another in the divine
commonwealth on earth ; it was also drawn out into every
detail of banal anthropomorphic comparison. From John
of Salisbury to Dante and Occam and Nicholas Cusanus, no
point of fancied analogy between the parts and members of
the body and the various functions of Church and State was
left unexploited.^
Mankind then is one community ; also an organism.
But within the human organism abides the duaHty of soul
and body ; and the Community of Mankind on earth is
constituted of two orders, the spiritual and temporal, Church
and State. 2 There must be either co-ordination between
State and Church, body and soul, or subordination of the
temporal and material to the eternal and spiritual. To evoke
an adjustment of what was felt to be an actually universal
opposition, was the chief problem of mediaeval polity, and
forms the warp and woof of conflicting theories. The Church
asserted a full spiritual supremacy even in things temporal,
and, to support the claim brought sound arguments as well as
foolish allegory — allegory pretending to be horror-stricken
at the vision of an animal with two heads, a bicephalic
monstrosity. Thus : does not the Church comprise all man-
kind ? Did not God found it ? Is not Christ its head,
and under Him his vicegerent Peter and all the popes ?
Then shall not the pope who commands the greater, which
* See Gierke, Political Theories of the Middle Ages, trans, by Maitland (Cam-
bridge, 1900), p. 22 sqq. and notes. I would express my indebtedness to this
book for these pages on mediaeval political theories. Dimning's History of
Political Theories is an excellent outline ; Carlyle's History of Mediaeval Political
Theory gives the sources carefully.
* Occasionally studium (knowledge, study, or science) is introduced as a third
part or element of the human community or of himian life. Thus in the famous
statement of Jordanes of Osnabriick — the Romans received the Sacerdotium, the
Germans the Imperium, the French the Studium. See Gierke, Political Theories,
p. 104, note 8.
VOL. II X
3o6 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
is the spiritual, much more command the less, the temporal ?
And all the argumentation of the two swords, delivered to
Peter, comes into play. That there are two swords is but
a propriety of administration. Secular rulers wield the
secular sword at the pope's command. They are instruments
of the Church. Fundamentally the State is an ecclesiastical
institution, and the bounds of secular law are set by the
law spiritual : the canon law overrides the laws of every
State. True, in this division, the State also is ordained of
God, but only as subordinate. And divinely ordained
though it be, the origin of the State lies in sin ; for sin
alone made government and law needful for man.^
On the other hand, the partisans of the State upheld
co-ordination as the true principle. ^ The two swords
represent distinct powers, Sacerdotium and Imperium. The
latter as well as the former is from God ; and the two are
co-ordinates, although of course the Church which wields
the spiritual sword is the higher. This theory creates no
bicephalic monster. God is the universal head. And even
as man is body as well as soul, the human community is
State as well as Church ; and the State needs the emperor
for its head, as the Church has the pope. The Roman
Dominion, imperium mundi, was legitimate, and by divine
appointment has passed over to the Roman-German
emperor. Other views sustaining the scheme of co-ordina-
tion upheld a plurality of states, rather than one universal
Imperium. Of course these opposing views of subordination
or co-ordination of State and Church took on every shade
of diversity.
As to both Church and State, mediaeval political theory
was predominantly monarchical. Ideally this flowed from
the thought of God as the true monarch of the universe.
Practically it comported with mediaeval social conditions.
Under Innocent III., if not imder Gregory VII., the Church
had become a monarchy well-nigh absolute.^ The pope's
^ Cf. Gierke, o.c. p. 109, note 16. But compare Carlyle, o.c. vol. ii. part
ii. chaps, vii.-xi.
^ Even toward the close of the Middle Ages, Marsilius of Padua was almost
alone in positing the absolute supremacy of the State, says Gierke.
® See Gierke, o.c. p. 144, note 131, and compare notes 132, 133, and 183 for
attacks upon the plenary power of the pope.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 307
power continued plenary until the great schism and the
age of councils evoked by it. For the secular state, the
common voice likewise favoured monarchy. The unity of
the social organism is best effected by the singleness of its
head. Thomas Aquinas authoritatively reasons thus, and
Dante maintains that as the unifying principle is Will, the
will of one man is the best means to realize it.^ But
monarchy is no absolute right existing for the ruler's
benefit, rather it is an office to be righteously exercised
for the good of the community. The monarch's power is
limited, and if his command outrages law or right, it is a
nullity ; his subjects need not obey, and the principle
applies, that it is better to obey God than man. Even
when, as in the days of the Hohenstaufen, the civil jurists
claimed for the emperor the plenitudo potestatis of a Roman
Caesar, the opposite doctrine held strong, which gave him
only a limited power, in its nature conditioned on its
rightful exercise.
Moreover, rights of the community were not im-
recognized, and indeed were supported by elaborate theories
as the Middle Ages advanced to their climacteric. The
thought of a contract between ruler and people frequently
appears, and reference to the contract made at Hebron
between David and the people of Israel (2 Sam. v. 3).
The civil jurist also looked back to the principle of the
jus gentium giving to every free people the right to choose
a ruler ; also to that famous text of the Digest, where,
through the lex regia, the people were said to have conferred
their powers upon the princeps.^ With such thoughts of
the people's rights came theories of representation and of
the monarch as the people's representative ; and Roman
corporation law supplied the rules for mediaeval representa-
tive assemblies, lay and clerical. ^
The old Germanic state was a conglomerate of positive
law and specific custom, having no existence beyond the
laws, which were its formative constituents. Such a con-
1 Gierke, o.c. pp. 31-32, and p. 139, notes 107 and 108.
* Dig. i. 4, I ; Gierke, o.c. p. 39 and pp. 146, 147.
* Gierke, o.c. p. 64. Cf. E. Barker, The Dominican Order and Convocation
(Oxford, 1913).
308 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvi
ception did not satisfy mediaeval publicists, imbued with
antique views of the State's further aims and potency. Nor
were all men satisfied with the State's divinely ordered
origin in human sinfulness. An ultimate ground for its
existence was sought, commensurate with its broadest aims.
Such was found, not in positive, but in natural law — again
an antique conception. That a veritable natural law
existed, all men agreed ; also that its source lay back of
human conventions, somehow in the nature of God. All
admitted its absolute supremacy, binding alike upon popes
and secular monarchs, and rendering void all acts and
positive laws contravening it. It must be the State's
ultimate constituent ground.
God was the source of natural law. Some argued that
it proceeded from His will, as a command, others that its
source was eternal Reason announcing her necessary and
imalterable dictates ; again its source was held to lie more
definitely in the Reason that was identical with God the
summa ratio in Deo existens, as Aquinas puts it. From
that springs the Lex naturalis, ordained to rest on the
participation of man, as a rational creature, in the moral
order which he perceives by the light of natural reason.
This lex naturalis (or jus naturale) is a true promulgated
law, since God implants it for recognition in the minds of
men.^ Absolute unconditional supremacy was ascribed to
it, and also to the jus divinum, which God revealed super-
naturally for a supramundane end. A cognate supremacy
was ascribed to the jus commune gentium, which was
composed of rules of the jus naturale adapted to the
conditions of fallen human nature.
Such law was above the State, to which, on the other
hand, positive law was subject. Whenever the ruler was
conceived as sovereign or absolute, he likewise was deemed
above positive law, but bound by these higher laws. They
were the source and sanction of the innate and indestructible
rights of the individual, to property and liberty and life
as they were formulated at a later period. It is evident
how the recognition of such rights fell in with the Christian
revelation of the absolute value of every individual in and
1 Gierke, o.c. p. 172, note 256. Of. ante, p. 297.
CHAP. XXXIV ROMAN AND CANON LAW 309
for himself and his immortal life. On the other hand,
certain rights of the State, or the community, were also
indestructible and inalienable by virtue of the nature of
their source in natural law.^
This abstract of political theory has been stated in
terms generalized to vagueness, and with no attempt to
follow the details or trace the historical development. The
purpose has been to give the general flavour of mediaeval
thought concerning Church and State, and the Individual
as a member of them both. One observes how the patristic
and mediaeval Christian thought mingles with the antique ;
and one may assume the intellectual acumen applied by
legist, canonist, and scholastic theologian to the discussion
and formulation of these high arguments. The mediaeval
genius for abstractions is evident, and the mediaeval faculty
of linking them to the affairs of life ; clear also is the baneful
effect of mediaeval allegory. Even as men nowadays
are disposed to rest in the apparent reality of the tangible
phenomenon, so the mediaeval man just as commonly
sought for his reality in what the phenomenon might be
conceived to symbolize. Therefore in the higher political
controversies, even as in other interests of the human spirit,
argument through allegory was accepted as legitimate,
if not convincing ; and a proper sequence of thought was
deemed to lie from one symbolical meaning to another,
with even a deeper validity than from one palpable fact to
that which followed from it.
^ See Gierke, o.c. pp. 73-86, and corresponding notes.
BOOK VII
ULTIMATE INTELLECTUAL INTERESTS
OF THE TWELFTH AND
THIRTEENTH CENTURIES
3"
CHAPTER XXXV
SCHOLASTICISM : SPIRIT, SCOPE, AND METHOD
The religious philosophy or theology of the Middle Ages is
commonly called scholasticism, and its exponents are called
the scholastics. The name applies most properly to the
respectable academic thinkers. These, in the early Middle
Ages, usually were monks living in monasteries, like St.
Anselm, for instance, who was Abbot of Bee in Normandy
before, to his sorrow, he was made Archbishop of Canterbury.
In the thirteenth century, however, while these respected
thinkers still were monks, or rather mendicant friars, they
were also university professors. Albertus Magnus and St.
Thomas Aquinas, the great Dominicans, and their friend St.
Bonaventura, who became the head of the Franciscan Order,
all lectured at the University of Paris, the chief university
of the Middle Ages in the domain of philosophy and theology.
Moreover, as the scholastics were respectable and academic,
so they were usually orthodox Churchmen, good Roman
Catholics. The conduct or opinions of some of them,
Abaelard for example, became suspect to the Church
authorities ; yet Abaelard, although his book had been
condemned, kept within the Church's pale, and died a monk
of Cluny. There were plenty of obdurate heretics in the
Middle Ages ; but their bizarre ideas, sometimes coming
down from Manichaean sources, were scarcely germane to the
central lines of mediaeval thought.^
^ Little will be said in these pages of palpable crass heretics like the Cathari,
for example. The philosophic ideas of such seem gathered from the flotsami and
jetsam of the later antique world ; their stock was not of the best, and bore little
interesting fruit for later times. Such mediaeval heresies present no continuous
evolution like that of the proper scholasticism. Progress in philosophy and
314 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
One hears of scholastic philosophy and scholastic
theology ; and assuredly these mediaeval theologian-philo-
sophers endeavoured to distinguish between the one and
the other phase of the matters which occupied their minds.
The distinction was intelligibly drawn and, in many treatises,
doubtless affected the choice and ordering of topics.
Whether it was consistently observed in the handling of
those topics, is another question, which perhaps should be
answered in the negative. At all events, to attempt to
observe this distinction in considering the ultimate intel-
lectual interests of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,
might sap the matter of the human interest attaching to it,
to wit, that interest and validity possessed by all serious
effort to know — and to be saved. These were the motives
of the scholastics, whether they used their reason, or clung to
revelation, or did both, as they always did.
Mediaeval methods of thinking and topics of thought
^ are no longer in vogue. For the time, men have turned
from the discussion of universals and the common unity or
separate individuality of mind, and are as little concerned
with transubstantiation as with the old dispute over
investitures. But the scholastics were men and so are we.
theology came through academic personages, who at all events laid claim to
orthodoxy. All lines of advance leading on to later phases of philosophic, scientific,
and religious thought, lay within the labours of such, some of whom, however,
were suspected or even condemned by the Church, like Eriugena, Abaelard, or
Roger Bacon. But these men did not stand apart from orthodox academic
circles, and were never cast out by the Chiurch. Thought and learning in the
Middle Ages were domiciled in monastic, episcopal, or imiversity circles ; and
these were at least conventionally orthodox.
It has been said, to be sure, that the heresy of one generation becomes the
orthodoxy of another ; but this is true only of tendencies like those of Abaelard,
which represent the gradual expansion and clearing up of scholastic processes.
For the time they may be condemned, perhaps because of the vain and contentious
character of the suspected thinker ; but in the end they are recognized as
admissible.
The Averroists constitute an apparent exception. Yet they were a philosophic
and academic sect, whose heresy consisted in an implicit following of Aristotle
as interpreted by Averroes. Moreover, they sought to save their orthodoxy
by their doctrine of the two kinds of truth, philosophic and theological or dog-
matic. It is not clear that much frxiitful thought came from their school. The
positions of Siger de Brabant, a prominent Averroist and contemporary of Aquinas,
are referred to post. Chapter XXXVIII. The best account of Averroism is
Mandonnet's Siger de Brabant et I'averroisme latin au XIIP sihle (second edition,
Louvain, 1911). See also De Wulf, Hist, of Medieval Philosophy (3rd ed., Long-
mans, 1909), p. 379 sqq. with authorities cited.
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 315
Our humanity is one with theirs. Men are still under the
necessity of reflecting upon their own existence and the
world without, and still feel the need to reach conclusions
and the impulse to formulate consistently what seem to
them vital propositions. Herein we are blood kin to Gerbert
and Anselm, to Abaelard and Hugo of St. Victor, to Thomas
Aquinas as well as Roger Bacon : and our highest nature is
one with theirs in the intellectual fellowship of human
endeavour to think out and present that which shall appease
the mind. Because of this kinship with the scholastics, and
the sympathy we feel for the struggle which is the same in
us and them, their intellectual endeavours, their achieved
conclusions, although now appearing as but apt or neces-
sitated phrases, may have for us the immortal interest of
the eternal human.
Let us then approach mediaeval thought as man meets
man, and seek in it for what may still be valid, or at least
real to us, because agreeing with what we find within our-
selves. Being men as well as scholars, we would win from
its parchment-covered tomes those elements which if they
do not represent everlasting verities, are at least symbols of
the permanent necessities of the human mind. Whatever
else there is in mediaeval thought, as touching us less
nearly, may be considered by way of historical setting and
explanation.
In different men the impulse to know bears different
relationships to the rest of life. It sometimes seems self-
impelled, and again palpably inspired by a motive beyond
itself. In some form, however, it winds itself into every
action of our mental faculties, and no province of life appears
untouched by this craving of the mind. Nevertheless, to
know is not the whole matter ; for with knowledge comes
appetition or aversion, admiration or contempt, love or
abhorrence ; and other impulses — emotional, desiderative,
loving — ^impel the human creature to realize its nature in
states of heightened consciousness that are not palpable
modes of knowing, though they may be replete with all the
knowledge that the man has gained.
These ultimate cravings which we recognize in ourselves,
inspired mediaeval thought. Its course, its progress, its
3i6 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvii
various phases, its contents and completed systems, all
represent the operation of human faculty pressing to expres-
sion and realization under the accidental or " historical "
conditions of the mediaeval period. We may be sure that
many kinds of human craving and corresponding faculty
realized themselves in mediaeval philosophy, theology, piety
and mysticism — the last a word used provisionally, until we
succeed in resolving it into terms of clearer significance.
And we also note that in these provinces, realization is
expression. Every faculty, every energy, in man seeks to
function, to realize its power in act. The sheer body — ^if
there be sheer body — acts bodily, operates, and so makes
actual its powers. But those human energies which are
informed with mind, realize themselves in ardent or rational
thought, or in uttered words, or in products of the artfully
devising hand. All this clearly is expression, and corre-
sponds, if it is not one and the same, with the passing of
energy from potency to the actuality which is its end and
consummation. Thus love, seeking its end, thereby seeks
expression, through which it is enhanced, and in which it is
realized. Likewise, impelled by the desire to know, the
faculties of cognition and reason realize themselves in expres-
sion ; and in expression each part of rational knowledge is
clarified, completed, rendered accordant with the data of
observation and the laws or necessities of the mind.
Human faculties form a correlated whole ; and this
composite human nature seeks to act, to function. Thus the
whole man strives to realize the fullest actuality of his being,
to satisfy or express the whole of him, and not alone his
reason, nor yet his emotions, or his appetites. This utter-
most realization of human being — man's summum bonum
or summa necessitas — cannot unite the incompatible within
its synthesis. It must be kept a consistent ideal, a possible
whole. Here the demiurge is the discriminating and con-
structive intelligence, which builds together the permanent
and valuable elements of being, and excludes whatever
cannot coexist in concord with them. Yet the intelligence
does not always set its own rational activities as man's
furthest goal of realization. It may place love above
reason. And, of course, its discriminating judgment wiU
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 317
be affected by current knowledge and by dominant beliefs
as to man and his destiny, the universe and God.
Manifestly whatever the thoughtful idealizing man in
any period (and our attention may at once focus itself upon
the Middle Ages) adjudges to belong to the final realization
of his nature, will become an object of intellectual interest
for him ; and he will deem it a proper subject for study
and meditation. The rational, spiritual, or even physical
elements, which may enter and compose this, his summum
honum, represent those intellectual interests which may be
termed ultimate, for the very reason, that they relate to
what the thinker deems his beatitude. These ultimate
intellectual interests possess an absolute sanction, for the
lack of which whatever lies outside of them tends to adjudge
itself vain.
The philosophy, theology, and the profoundly felt and
reasoned piety, of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries made
up that period's ultimate intellectual interests. We are not
concerned with other matters occupying its attention, save
as they bore on man's supreme beatitude, which was held to
consist in his everlasting salvation and all that might con-
stitute his bliss in that unending state. The elements of
this blessedness were not deemed to lie altogether in rational
cognition and its processes ; for the conception of the
soul's beatitude was catholic ; and while with some men
the intellectual elements were dominant, with others salva-
tion's summit was attained along the paths of spiritual
emotion.
Obviously, from the side of the emotions, there could
come no large and lasting happiness, imless emotional desire
and devotion were directed to that which might also satisfy
the mind, or at all events, would not conflict with its judg-
ment. Hence the emotional side of the ultimate mediaeval
ideal was pietistic ; because the mediaeval dogmatic faith
regarded the emotional impulses between one human being
and another as distracting, if not wicked. Such mortal
impulses were so very difficult to harmonize with the eternal
beatitude which consisted in the cognition and love of God.
This principle was proclaimed by monks and theologians, or
philosophers ; it was even recognized (although not followed)
3i8 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvii
in the literature which glorified the love of man and woman,
but in which the lover-knight so often ends a hermit, and
the convent at last receives his sinful mistress. On the
other hand, reason, with its practical and speculative know-
ledge, is sterile when unmixed with piety and love. This is
the sum of Bonaventura's fervid arguments, and is as clearly,
if more quietly, recognized by Aquinas, with whom fides
without caritas is informis, formless, very far indeed from its
true actuality or realization.
Thus, for the full realization of man's highest good in
everlasting salvation, the two complementary phases of the
human spirit had to act and function in concord. Together
they must realize themselves in such catholic expression as
should exclude only the froward or evil elements, non-
elements rather, of man's nature. Both represent ultimate
mediaeval interests and desires ; and perhaps deep down and
very intimately, even inscrutably, they may be one, even as
they clearly are complementary phases of the human soul.
Yet with certain natures who perhaps fail to hold the balance
between them, the two phases seem to draw apart, or at
least to evince themselves in distinct expression, and indeed
in all men they are usually distinguishable.
Generally speaking, the conception of man's divinely
mediated salvation, and of the elements of human being
which might be carried on, and realized in a state of ever-
lasting beatitude, prescribed the range of ultimate intellec-
tual interests for the Middle Ages. The same had been
despotically true of the patristic period. Augustine would
know God and the soul ; Ambrose expressed equally em-
phatic views upon the vanity of all knowledge that did not
contribute to an understanding of the Christian Faith. This
view was held with temperamental and barbarizing narrow-
ness by Gregory the Great. It was admitted, as of course,
throughout the Carolingian period, although humanistically-
minded men played with the* pagan literature. Nor was it
seriously disputed in the eleventh or twelfth century, when
men began to delight in dialectic, and some cared for pagan
literature ; nor yet in the thirteenth when an increasing
number were asking many things from philosophy and
natural knowledge, which had but distant bearing on the
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 319
soul's salvation. One of these men was Roger Bacon, whose
scientific studies were pursued with ceaseless energy. But
he could also state emphatically the principle of the worth-
lessness of whatever does not help men to understand the
divine truths by which they are saved. In Bacon's time, the
love of knowledge was enlarging its compass, while, reaUy or
nominally as the individual case might be, the criterion of
relevancy to the Faith still obtained, and set the topics with
which men should occupy themselves. All matters of
philosophy or natural science had to relate themselves to the
summum honum of salvation in order to possess ultimate
human interest. Therefore, if philosophy was to preserve
the strongest reason for its existence, it had to remain the
handmaid of theology. Still, to be sure, the conception of
man's beatitude would become more comprehensive with the
expansion and variegation of the desire for knowledge.
As the summum honum of salvation prescribed the topics
of ultimate intellectual interest for the Middle Ages, so the
stress which it laid upon one topic rather than another
tended to direct their ordering or classification, as well as
the proportion of attention devoted to each one. Likewise
the form or method of presentation was controlled by the
authority of the Scriptural statement of the way and means
of salvation, and the well-nigh equally authoritative inter-
pretation of the same by the beatified Fathers. Thus the
nature of the summum honum and the character of its
Scriptural statement and patristic exposition suggested the
arrangement of topics, and set the method of their treatment
in those works of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries which
afford the most important presentations of the ultimate
intellectual interests of that time. Obvious examples will
be Abaelard's Sic el non and his Theologia, Hugo of St.
Victor's De sacramenfis, the Lombard's Books of Sentences,
and the Summa theologiae of Thomas Aquinas.
It will be seen in the next chapter that the arrangement
of topics in these comprehensive treatises differed from what
would have been evolved through the requirements of a
systematic presentation of human knowledge. Aquinas sets
forth the reasons why one mode of treatment is suitable to
philosophy and another to sacred science, and why the
320 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvii
latter may omit matters proper for the former, or treat them
from another point of view. The supremacy of sacred
science is incidentally shown by the argument. In his
Contra Gentiles} chapter four, book second, bears the title :
" Quod aliter considerat de creaturis Philosophus et aliter
Theologus " (" That the philosopher views the creation in one
way and the theologian in another "). In the text he says :
" The science (doctrina) of Christian faith considers creatures
so far as there may be in them some likeness of God, and so far as
error regarding them might lead to error in things divine. . . .
Human philosophy considers them after their own kind, and its
parts are so devised as to correspond with the different classes
(genera) of things ; but the faith of Christ considers them, not
after their own kind, as for example, fire as fire, but as representing
the divine altitude. . . . The philosopher considers what belongs
to them according to their own nature ; the believer [fidelis)
regards in creatures only what pertains to them in their relation-
ship to God, as that they are created by Him and subject to Him.
Wherefore the science of the Faith is not to be deemed incomplete,
if it passes over many properties of things, as the shape of the
heaven or the quality of motion. ... It also follows that the two
sciences do not proceed in the same order. With philosophy,
which regards creatures in themselves, and from them draws on
into a knowledge of God, the first consideration is in regard to
the creatures and the last is as to God. But in the science of
faith, which views creatures only in their relationship to God [in
ordine ad Deum), the first consideration is of God, and next of the
creatures."
Obviously sacra doctrina, which is to say, theologia,
proceeds differently from philosophia humana, and evidently
it has to do with matters of ultimate importance, and
therefore of ultimate intellectual interest. The passage
quoted from the Contra Gentiles may be taken as intro-
ductory to the more elaborate statement at the beginning
of his Summa theologiae, where Thomas sets forth the
principles by which sacra doctrina is distinguished from the
philosophicae disciplinae, to wit, the various sciences of
human philosophy :
" It was necessary to human salvation that there should be a
science {doctrina) according with divine revelation, besides the
^ Called also his Summa philosophica, to distinguish it from his Summa theo-
logiae.
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 321
philosophical disciplines which are pursued by human reason.
Because man was formed [ordinatur) toward God as toward an
end exceeding reason's comprehension. That end should be
known to men, who ought to regulate their intentions and actions
toward an end. Wherefore it was necessary for salvation that
man should know certain matters through revelation, which
surpass human reason."
Thomas now points out that, on account of many errors,
it also was necessary for man to be instructed through
divine revelation as to those saving truths concerning God
which human reason was capable of investigating. He next
proceeds to show that sacra doctrina is science.
" But there are two kinds of sciences. There are those which
proceed from the principles known by the natural hght of the
mind, as arithmetic and geometry. There are others which pro-
ceed from principles known by the Hght of a superior science :
as perspective proceeds from principles made known through
geometry, and music from principles known through arithmetic.
And sacra doctrina is science in this way, because it proceeds from
principles known by the light of a superior science or knowledge
which is the knowledge belonging to God and the beatified. Thus
as music believes the principles delivered to it by arithmetic, so
sacred doctrine believes the principles revealed to it from God."
The question then is raised whether sacra doctrina is one
science, or many. And Thomas answers, that it is one, by
reason of the unity of its formal object. For it views every-
thing discussed by it as divinely revealed ; and all things
which are subjects of revelation [revelahilia) have part in the
formal conception of this science ; and so are comprehended
under sacra doctrina, as under one science. Nevertheless it
extends to subjects belonging to various departments of
knowledge so far as they are knowable through divine
illumination. As some of these may be practical and some
speculative, it follows that sacred science includes both the
practical and the speculative, even as God with the same
knowledge knows himself and also the things He makes.
" Yet this science is more speculative than practical, because
on principle it treats of divine things rather than human actions,
which it treats in so far as man by means of them is directed
{ordinatur) to perfect cognition of God, wherein eternal beatitude
consists, . . . This science in its speculative as well as practical
VOL. II Y
322 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvii
functions transcends other sciences, speculative and practical.
One speculative science is said to be worthier than another, by
reason of its certitude, or the dignity of its matter. In both
respects this science surpasses other speculative sciences, because
the others have certitude from the natural light of human reason,
which may err ; but this has certitude from the hght of the divine
knowledge, which cannot be deceived ; likewise by reason of the
dignity of its matter, because primarily it relates to matters too
high for reason, while other sciences consider only those which
are subjected to reason. It is worthier than the practical sciences,
which are ordained for an ulterior end ; for so far as this science is
practical, its end is eternal beatitude, unto which as an ulterior end
all other ends of the practical sciences are ordained (ordinantur).
" Moreover although this science may accept something from
the philosophical sciences, it requires them merely for the larger
manifestation of the matters which it teaches. For it takes its
principles, not from other sciences, but immediately from God
through revelation. So it does not receive from other sciences
as from superiors, but uses them as servants. Even so, it uses
them not because of any defect of its own, but because of the
defectiveness of our intellect which is more easily conducted
[manuducitur) by natural reason to the things above reason
which this science teaches."
Thomas now shows, with scholastic formalism, that God
is the subjedum of this science ; since all things in it are
treated with reference to God {sub ratione Dei), either
because they are God himself, or because they bear relation-
ship {habent ordinem) to God as toward their cause and end
{principium et finem). The final question is whether this
science be argumenfativa, using arguments and proofs ; and
Thomas thus sets forth his masterly solution :
" I reply, it should be said that as other sciences do not argue,
to prove their first principles, but argue from them in order to
prove other matters in those sciences, so this science does not
argue to prove its principles, which are articles of Faith, but
proceeds from them to prove something else, as the Apostle, in
I Corinthians xv., argues from the resurrection of Christ to
prove the resurrection of us all. One should bear in mind
that in the philosophic sciences the lower science neither
proves its own first principles nor disputes with him who
denies them, but leaves that to a higher science. But the
science which is the highest among them, that is metaphysics,
does dispute with him who denies its principles, if the adversary
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 323
will concede anything ; if he concede nothing it cannot thus argue
with him, but can only overthrow his arguments. Likewise
sacra doctrina or theology, since it owns no higher science, disputes
with him who denies its principles, by argument indeed, if the
adversary will concede any of the matters which it accepts through
revelation. Thus through Scriptural authorities we dispute
against heretics, and adduce one article against those who deny
another. But if the adversary will give credence to nothing
which is divinely revealed, sacred science has no arguments by
which to prove to him the articles of faith, but has only argu-
ments to refute his reasonings against the Faith, should he
adduce any. For since faith rests on infallible truth, its contrary
cannot be demonstrated : manifestly the proofs which are brought
against it are not proofs, but controvertible arguments.
" To argue from authority is most appropriate to this science ;
for its principles rest on revelation, and it is proper to credit the
authority of those to whom the revelation was made. Nor does
this derogate from the dignity of this science ; for although proof
from authority based on human reason may be weak, yet proof
from authority based on divine revelation is most effective.
" Yet sacred science also makes use of human reason ; not
indeed to prove the Faith, because this would take away the merit
of believing ; but to make manifest other things which may be
treated in this science. For since grace does not annul nature,
but perfects it, natural reason should serve faith, even as the
natural inclination conforms itself to love {caritas). Hence
sacred science uses the philosophers also as authority, where
they were able to know the truth through natural reason. It
uses authorities of this kind as extraneous arguments having
probabihty. But it uses the authorities of the canonical Scrip-
tures arguing from its own premises and with certainty. And it
uses the authorities of other doctors of the Church, as arguing
upon its own ground, yet only with probability. For our faith
rests upon the revelation made to the Apostles and Prophets,
who wrote the canonical books ; and not upon the revelation,
if there was any, made to other doctors." ^
Mediaeval thought was beset behind and before by the
compulsion of its conditions. Antique philosophy and the
dogmatic Christian Faith, very dual and yet joined, antagon-
istic and again united, constituted the form-giving principles
of mediaeval thinking. They were, speaking in scholastic
phrase, the substantial as well as accidental forms of
^ Summa iheologiae, i. i., quaestio i. art. i-8.
324 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
mediaeval theology, philosophy, and knowledge. Which
means that they set the lines of mediaeval theology or philo-
sophy, and caused the one and the other to be what it became,
rather than something else ; and also that they supplied the
knowledge which mediaeval men laboured to acquire, and
attempted to adjust their thinking to. Thus, through the
twelfth, the thirteenth, and the fourteenth centuries, they
remained the inworking formal causes of mediaeval thought ;
while, on the other hand, the moving and efficient causes
(still speaking in scholastic-Aristotelian phrase) were the
human impulses which those formal causes moulded, or
indeed suggested, and the faculties which they trained.
The patristic system of dogma with the antique philo-
sophy, set the forms of mediaeval expression, fixed the
distinctive qualities of mediaeval thought, furnished its
topics, and even necessitated its problems — in two ways :
First, through the specific substance which passed over and
filled the mediaeval productions ; and secondly, simply by
reason of the existence of such a vast authoritative body of
antique and patristic opinion, knowledge, dogma, which the
Middle Ages had to accept and master, and beyond which
the substance of mediaeval thinking was hardly destined to
advance.
The first way is obvious enough. The second is less
obvious, but equally important. This mass of dogma, know-
ledge, and opinion, existed finished and complete. Men
imperfectly equipped to comprehend it were brought to it by
the conviction that it was necessary to their salvation, and
then gradually by the persuasion also that it offered the only
means of intellectual progress. The struggle to master such
a volume of knowledge issuing from a more creative past,
gave rise to novel problems, or promoted old ones to a novel
prominence. The problem of imiversals was taken directly
from the antique dialectic. It played a monstrous role in
the twelfth century because it was in very essence a funda-
mental problem of cognition, of knowing, and so pressed
upon men who were driven by the need to master con-
tinually unfolding continents of thought. ^ This is an
instance of a problem transmitted from the past, but blown
1 Post, Chapter XXXVII., i.
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 325
up to extraordinary importance by mediaeval intellectual
conditions. So throughout the whole scholastic range,
attitude and method alike are fixed by the fact that
scholasticism was primarily an appropriation of transmitted
propositions.
In considering the characteristics of mediaeval thought,
is well to bear in mind these diverse ways in which its
antecedents made it what it was : through their substance
transmitted to it ; through the receptive attitude forced upon
men by existing accumulations of authoritative doctrine, and
the method entailed upon mediaeval thought by its scholastic
rather than originative character. Also one will not omit to
notice which elements came from the action of the patristic
body of antecedents, rather than from the antique group,
and vice versa.
Since the antique and patristic constituted well-nigh the
whole substance of philosophy and theology in the Middle
Ages, a separate consideration of what was thus transmitted
would amount to a history of mediaeval thought from a
somewhat unilluminating point of view. On the other hand,
one may learn much as to the qualities of mediaeval thought
from observing the attitudes of various men in successive
centuries toward Greek philosophy and patristic theology.
The Fathers had used the concepts of the former in the
construction of their systems of acceptance of the Christian
Faith. But the spirit of inquiry from which Greek philo-
sophy had sprung, was very different from the spirit in which
the Fathers used its concepts and arguments, in order to
substantiate what they accepted on the authority of Scripture
and tradition. It is true that Greek philosophy in the Neo-
Platonism of Porphyry and lamblicus was not far from the
patristic attitude toward knowledge. But the spirit of these
declining moods of Neo-Platonism was not the spirit which
had carried the philosophy of the Greeks to its intellectual
culmination in Plato and Aristotle, and to its attainment of
the ethically rational in Stoicism and the system of Epicurus.
Thus patristic thinking was essentially different in
purpose and method from the philosophy which it forced to
serve its uses ; and the two differed by every difference of
method, spirit, and intent which were destined to appear
326 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
among the various kinds of mediaeval thinkers. But the
difference between Greek philosopher and Church Father
was deeper than any that ever could exist among mediaeval
men. Some of the last might be conventionally orthodox
and passionately pious, while others cared more distinctly
for the fruits of knowledge. But even these could not be as
Greek philosophers, because they were accustomed to rely
on authority, and because they who drew their knowledge
from an existing store would not have the independence
and originality distinguishing the Greeks, who had created
so much of that store from which they drew.^ Moreover,
while neither Plato's inquiry for truth, nor Aristotle's catholic
search for knowledge, was isolated from its bearing on either
the conduct or the event of life, nevertheless with them
rational inquiry was a final motive representing in itself that
which was most divinely human, and so the best for man.^
But with the philosophers of the Middle Ages, it never was
quite so. For the need of salvation had worked in men's
blood for generations. And salvation, man's highest good,
did not consist in humanly-attained knowledge or in virtue
won by human strength ; but was divinely mediated and
had to be accepted upon authority. Hence, even in the
great twelfth and thirteenth centuries, intellectual inquiry
was never unlimbered from bands of deference, nor
ever quite dispassionately rational or unaffected by the
mortal need to attain a salvation which was bestowed or
withheld by God according to His plan authoritatively
declared.
Accordingly all mediaeval variances of thought show
common similitudes : to wit, some consciousness of need of
super-rational and superhuman salvation ; deference to some
authority ; and finally a pervasive scholasticism, since
mediaeval thought was of necessity diligent, acceptant,
reflective, rather than original. One will be impressed with
the formal character of mediaeval thought. For being thus
^ Even the Averroists were more mediaeval than Greek, inasmuch as they
professed to follow Aristotle implicitly. Of. post. Chapter XXXVIII., at the end.
^ A touch of " salvation," or salvation's need, is on Plato when his " philo-
sophy " becomes a consideration of death {fieKiri-] Oavdrov) and a process of
growing as like to God (ofiolucris Oeif) as man can. Pliaedo, 80 e, and Theaetetus,
176 A.
CHAP. XXXV .METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 327
scholastic, it was occupied with devising forms through which
to express, or re-express, the mass of knowledge proffered
to it. Besides, formal logic was a prominent part of the
transmitted contents of antique philosophy, and became
a chief discipline for mediaeval students ; because they
accepted it along with all the rest, and found its training
helpful for men burdened with such intellectual tasks as
theirs.
Within the lines of these universal qualities wind the
divergencies of mediaeval thought ; and one will notice how
they consist in leanings toward the ways of Greek philosophy,
or a reliance more or less complete upon the contents and
method of patristic theology. One common quality, of
which we note the variations, is that of deference to the
authority of the past. The mediaeval scholar could hardly
read a classic poet without finding authoritative statements
upon every topic brushed by the poet's fancy, and of course
the matter of more serious writings, history, logic, natural
science, was implicitly accepted. If the pagan learning was
thus regarded, how much more absolute was the deference to
sacred doctrine. Here all was authority. Scripture was
the primary source ; next came the creed, and the dogmas
established by councils ; and then the expositions of the
Fathers. Thus the meaning of the authoritative Scripture
was pressed into authoritative dogma, and then authorita-
tively systematized. The process had been intellectual and
rational, yet with the driven rationality of Church Fathers
struggling to formulate and express the accepted import of
the Faith delivered to the saints. Authority, faith, held the
primacy, and in two senses, for not only was it supreme and
final, but it was also prior in initiative efficiency. Tertullian's
cerium est, quia impossibile est, was an extreme paradox.
But Augustine's credimus ut cognoscamus was fundamental,
and remained unshaken. Anselm lays it at the basis of his
arguments ; with Bernard and many others it is credo first
of all, let the intelligere come as it may, and as it will accord-
ing to the fulness of our faith. The same principle of faith's
efficient primacy is temperamentally as well as logically
fundamental with Bonaventura.
Here then was a first general quality of mediaeval
328 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
thought : deference to authority. Now for the variances.
Scarcely diverging, save in emphasis, from Augustine and
Bonaventura, are the greatest of the schoolmen, Albert and
Thomas. They defer to authority and recognize the primacy
of faith, and yet they will, with abundant use of reason,
deliminate the respective provinces of grace and human
knowledge, and distinguish the absolute authority of Scrip-
ture from the statements even of the saints, which may be
weighed and criticized. In secular philosophy, these two
will, when their faith admits, accept the views of the
philosophers — Aristotle above all — yet using their own
reason. They are profoundly interested in knowledge and
metaphysical dialectic, but follow it with deferential tempers
and believing Christian souls.
Outside the company! of such, are men of more inde-
pendent temper, whose attitude tends to weaken the principle
of acceptance of authority in sacred doctrine. The first of
these was Eriugena with his explicit statement that reason
is greater than authority ; yet we may assume that he was
not intending to impugn Scripture. Centuries later another
chief example is Abaelard, whose dialectic temper leads him
to wish to prove everything by reason. Not that he stated,
or would have admitted this ; yet the extreme rationalizing
tendency of the man is projected through such a passage
as the following from his Historia calamitatum, where he
alludes to the circumstances of the composition of his work
upon the Trinity. He had become a monk in the monastery
of St. Denis, but students were still thronging to hear him,
to the wrath of some of his superiors.
" Then it came about that I was brought to expound the very
foundation of our faith by applying the analogies of human reason,
and was led to compose for my pupils a theological treatise on
the divine Unity and Trinity. They were calling for human and
philosophical arguments, and insisting upon something intelli-
gible, rather than mere words, saying that there had been more
than enough of talk which the mind could not follow ; that it
was impossible to believe what was not understood in the first
place ; and that it was ridiculous for any one to set forth to
others what neither he nor they could rationally conceive
{intellectu caper e)."
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 329
And Abaelard cites the verse from Matthew about the
bHnd leaders of the bhnd, and goes on to tell of the success
of his treatise, which pleased everybody, yet provoked the
greater envy because of the difficulty of the questions which
it elucidated ; and at last envy blew up the condemnation
of his book, at the Council of Soissons, in the year of grace
1121.^
Here one has the plain reversal. We must first under-
stand in order to believe. Doubtless the demands of
Abaelard's students to have the principles of the Christian
Faith explained, that they might be understood and accepted
rationally, echoed the master's imperative intellectual need.
Not that Abaelard would breathe the faintest doubt of these
verities ; they were absolute and unquestionable. He
accepted them upon authority just as implicitly (he might
think) as St. Bernard. Herein he shows the mediaeval
quality of deference. But he will understand with his mind
the profoundest truths enunciated by authority ; he will
explain them rationally, that the mind may rationally
comprehend them.
Men of an opposite cast of mind foresaw the outcome of
this rationalization of dogma more surely than the subtle
dialectician for whom this process was both peremptory and
proper. And the Church acted with a true instinct in
condemning Abaelard in spite of his protestations of belief,
just as with a like true instinct Friar Bacon's own Franciscan
Order looked askance on one whose mind was suspiciously set
upon observation and experiment — and cavilling at others.
Ceci tuera cela ! The ultra-scientific spirit is dangerous to
faith — and Bacon's asseverations that no knowledge was of
value save as it helped the soul's salvation, was doubtless
regarded as a conventional insincerity. Yet Roger Bacon
had his mediaeval deferences, as will appear.^
Neither one extreme view nor the other was to represent
the attitude of thoughtful and believing Christendom ; not
William of St. Thierry and St. Bernard, nor yet (on these
points) Abaelard and Friar Bacon should prevail ; but the
all-balancing and all-considering Aquinas. He will draw the
^ Historia calamitatum, cap. 9 and 10. Cf. post, p. 333.
2 Post, Chapter XLII.
330 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
lines between faith and reason, and bulwark them with
arguments which shall seem to render unto reason the things
of reason, and unto faith its due. Yet it is actually Roger
Bacon who accuses Thomas of making his Theology out of
dialectic and very human reasonings. It was true ; and we
are again reminded how variant views shaded into each other
in the Middle Ages, and all within certain lines of similarity.
Practically all mediaeval thinkers defer to authority — more
or less ; and all hold to some principle of faith, to the neces-
sity of believing something, for the soul's salvation. There is
likewise some similarity in their attitudes toward intellectual
interests. For all recognized their propriety, and gave credit
to the human desire to know. Likewise all saw that salva-
tion, the summum honum for man, included more than
intellection ; and felt that it held some consummation of
other human impulses ; that it held love — the love of God
along with the intellectual ardour of contemplation ; and
well-nigh all recognized also that the faith held mystery, not
to be solved by reason. Thus all were rational — some more,
some less ; and all were devotional and believing, pietistic,
ardent — some more, some less ; according as the intellectual
nature dominated the emotional, or the emotions quelled
the conscious exercise of reason, yet reached out and upward
from what knowledge and reason had given as a base to
spring from.
Thus the mediaeval spirit, variant within its lines of like-
ness ; and of a piece with it was the field it worked in, which
made its range and scope. Here as well, a saving know-
ledge of God and the soul was central and chief among
all intellectual interests. None denied this. Augustine, the
universal prototype of the mediaeval mind, had cried, " God
and the soul, these will I know, and these are all." But wide
had been the scope of his knowledge of God and the soul ;
and in the centuries which hung upon his words, wide also
was the range of knowledge subsumed under those capitals.
How would one know God and the soul ? Might one not
know God in all His universe, in the height and breadth
thereof, and backwards and forwards through the reach of
time ? Might not one also know the soul in all its operations,
all its queries and desires ; would not it and they, and their
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 331
activities, make up the complementary side of knowledge —
complementary to the primal object, God, known in His
eternity, in His temporal creation, in His everlasting govern-
ance ? Wide or narrow might be the intellectual interests
included within a knowledge of God and the soul. And while
many men kept close to the centre and saving nexus of these
potentially universal themes, others might become absorbed
with data of the creature-world, or with the manifold actions
of the mind of man, so as to forget to keep all duly ordered
and connected with the central thought.
So the search for knowledge might roam afield. Like-
wise as to its motive ; practically with many men it was, in
itself, a joy and end ; although they might continue to
connect this end formally with the salvation of the soul.
Roger Bacon of a surety was such a one. Another was
Albertus Magnus. The laborious culling of twenty tomes
of universal knowledge surely had the joy of knowing as the
active motive. And Aquinas too ; no one could be such an
acquisitive and reasoning genius, without the love of know-
ledge in his soul. Yet Thomas never let this love point
untrue to its goal of research and devotion, to wit, sacred
doctrine, theology, the Christian Faith in its very widest
compass, yet in its unity of saving purpose.
In Thomas Aquinas the certitude of faith, the sense of
grace, the ardour of love, never quenched the conscious
action of the reasoning and knowing mind ; nor did reason-
ing quench devotion. A balance too, though perhaps
with one scale higher than the other, was kept by
Bonaventura, whose mind had reason's faculty, but whose
heart burned perpetually toward God. Another rationally
ardent soul was Bonaventura's intellectual forerunner, Hugo
of St. Victor. In these men intellect did not outstrip the
fervours of contemplation. But such cathoHc balance did
not hold with Abaelard and Bacon, who lacked the pietistic
temperament. With others, conversely, the strength of the
pietistic and emotional nature overbore the intellect ; the
mind was less exacting ; and devotional ardour used reason
solely for its purposes. The mightiest of these were Bernard
and Francis. To the same key might chime the woman, St.
Hildegard of Bingen. We narrow down from these to
332 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
hectic souls content with a few thoughts which serve as a
basis for the heart's fervours.
The varying attitudes of mediaeval thinkers toward
reason and authority, and even their different views upon
the limits of the field of salutary knowledge, are exemplified
in their methods, or rather in the variations of their
common method. Here the factors were again authority
and the intellect which considers the authority, and in
terms of its own rational processes reacts upon the pro-
position under view. The intellect might simply accept
authority ; or, on the other hand, it might, through dialectic,
\ seek a conclusion of its own. But midway between a mere
acceptance of authority and the endeavour of dialectic for
its own conclusion, there is the reasoning process which
perceives divergence among authorities, compares, dis-
criminates, interprets, and at last acts as umpire. This
was the combined and catholic scholastic method. It
contained the two factors of its necessary duality ; and its
variations (besides the gradual perfecting of its form from
one generation to another) consisted in the predominant
employment of one factor or the other.
The beginning was in the Carolingian time, when
Rabanus compiled his authorities from sources sacred and
profane, scarcely discriminating except to maintain the
pre-eminence of the sacred matter. His younger con-
temporary, Eriugena, was a translator of his own chief
source, Pseudo-Dionysius, him of the Hierarchies, Celestial
and Ecclesiastical. Yet he composed also a veritable book,
De divisione naturae, in which he put his matter together
organically and with argument. And while professing to
hold to the authority of Scripture and the Fathers, he not
only took upon himself to select from their statements, but
propounded the proposition that the authority which is not
confirmed by reason appears weak. Eriugena made his
authorities 3deld him what his reason required. His
argumentative method became an independent rehandling of
matter drawn from them. It was very different from the
plodding excerpt-gathering of Rabanus.
We pass down the centuries to Anselm. Contemplative
and religious, his reverence for authority was unimpaired by
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 333
any conscious need to refashion its meaning. Though he
possessed creative intellectual powers, they were incited and
controlled by his deep piety. Hence his works were con-
structed of original and lofty arguments, but such as did not
infringe upon either the efficient or the final priority of
faith.
With Abaelard of many-sided fame the duality of
method becomes explicit, and is, if one may say so, set by
the ears. On the one hand, he advances in his constructive
theological treatises toward a portentous application of
reason to explain the contents of the Christian Faith ; on
the other, somewhat sardonically, he devises a scheme for
the employment and presentation of authorities upon these
sacred matters, a scheme so obviously apt that, once made
known, it could not but be followed and perfected.
The divers works of a man are likely to bear some
relation and resemblance to each other. Abaelard was a
reasoner, more specifically speaking, a dialectician according
to the ways of -Aristotelian logic. And in categories of
formal logic he sought to rationalize every matter appre-
hended by his mind. Swayed by the master-interest of the
time, he turned to theology ; and his own nature impelled
him to apply a constructive dialectic to its systematic
formulation. The result is exemplified in the extant portion
of his Theologia (mis-called Introductio ad Theologiam) , which
WcLS condemned by the Council of Sens in 1141, the year
before the master's death. The spirit of this work appears
in the passage already quoted from the Historia calamitatum,
referring to what was substantially an earlier form of the
Theologia} The Theologia argues for a free use of dialectic
in expounding dogma, especially in order to refute those
heretics who will not listen to authority, but demand reasons.
Like Abaelard' s previous theological treatises, it is filled with
citations of authority, principally Augustine ; and the reader
feels the author's hesitancy to reveal that dialectic is the
architect. Nor, in fact, is the work an exclusively dialectic
structure ; yet it illustrates (if it does not always inculcate)
^ Ante, p. 329. I cannot avoid referring to Abaelard several times before
considering the man and his work more specifically, and in the proper place ;
post. Chapter XXXVII., i. Of. Grabmaim, Ges. der schol. Methode, ii. pp.
168 sqq.
334 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
the application of the arguments of human reason to the
exposition and substantiation of the fundamental and most
deeply hidden contents of the Christian Faith. Obviously
Abaelard was not an initiator here. Augustine had devoted
his life to fortifying the Faith with argument and explanation ;
Eriugena, with a far weaker realization of its contents, had
employed a more distorting metaphysics in its presentation ;
and saintly Anselm had flown his veritable eagle flights of
reason. But Abaelard' s more systematic work represents a
further stage in the application of independent dialectic to
dogma, and an innovating freedom in the citation of pagan
philosophers to demonstrate its philosophic reasonableness.
Nevertheless, his statement that he had gathered these
citations from writings of the Fathers, and not from the
books of the philosophers [quorum pauca novi)} shows that
he was only using what the Fathers had made use of before
him, and also indicates the slightness of his independent
knowledge of Greek philosophy.
On the other hand, Abaelard's way of presenting
authorities for and against a theological proposition was
more distinctly original. He seems to have been the first
purposefully to systematize the method of stating the
problem, and then giving in order the authorities on one side
and the other — sic ef non ; as he entitled his famous work.
But the trail of his nature lay through this apparently
innocent composition, the evident intent of which was to
emphasize, if not exaggerate, the opposition among the
patristic authorities, and without a counterbalancing attempt
to show any substantial accord among them. This, of
course, is not stated in the Prologue, which, however, like
everything that Abaelard wrote, discloses his fatal facility
of putting his hand on the raw spot in the matter ; which
unfortunately is likely to be the vulnerable point also. In
it he remarks on the difficulty of interpreting Scripture,
upon the corruption of the text (a perilous subject), and the
introduction of apocryphal writings. There are discrepancies
even in the sacred texts, and contradictions in the writings
of the Fathers. With a profuse backing of authority he
shows that the latter are not to be read cum credendi neces-
^ Introductio ad theologiam, lib. ii. (Migne 178, col. 1039).
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 335
sitate, but cum judicandi libertate. Assuredly, as to any-
thing in the canonical Scriptures, "it is not permitted to
say : ' The Author of this book did not hold the truth ' ; but
rather ' the codex is false or the interpreter errs, or thou
dost not understand.' But in the works of the later ones
{posteriorum, Abaelard's inclusive designation of the Fathers),
which are contained in books without number, if passages
are deemed to depart from the truth, the reader is at liberty
to approve or disapprove."
This view was supported by Abaelard's citations from
the Fathers themselves ; and yet, so abruptly made, it was
not a pleasant statement for the ears of those to whom the
writings of the holy Fathers were sacred. Nothing was
sacred to the man who wrote this prologue — so it seemed to
his pious contemporaries. And who among them could
approve of the Prologue's final utterance upon the method
and purpose of the book ?
" Wherefore we decided to collect the diverse statements of
the holy Fathers, as they might occur to our memory, thus raising
an issue from their apparent repugnancy, which might incite the
teneros lectores to search out the truth of the matter, and render
them the sharper for the investigation. For the first key to
wisdom is called interrogation, diligent and unceasing. . . . By
doubting we are led to inquiry ; and from inquiry we perceive
the truth."
To use the discordant statements of the Fathers to
sharpen the wits of the young ! Was not that to uncover
their shame ? And the character of the work did not
salve the Prologue's sting. Abaelard selected and arranged
his extracts from pagan as well as Christian writers, and
prepared sardonic titles for the questions under which he
ordered his material. Time and again these titles flaunt an
opposition which the citations scarcely bear out. For
example, title iv. : " Quod sit credendum in Deum solum, et
contra " — certainly a flaming point ; yet the excerpts display
merely the verb credere, used in the palpably different senses
borne by the word " believe." There is no real repugnancy
among the citations. And again, in title Iviii. : " Quod
Adam salvatus sit, et contra " — there is no citation contra.
And the longest chapter in the book (cxvii.) has this
336 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
bristling title : " De sacramento altaris, quod sit essentialiter
ipsa Veritas camis Christi et sanguinis, et contra."
Because of such prickly traits the Sic et non did not
itself come into common use. But the suggestions of its
method once made, were of too obvious utility to be
abandoned. First, among Abaelard's own pupils the result
appears in Books of Sentences, which, in the arrangement of
their matter, followed the topical division not of the Sic et
non, but of Abaelard's Theologia, with its threefold division
of Theology into Fides, Caritas, and Sacramentum} But the
arrangement of the Theologia was not made use of in the
best and most famous of these compositions, Peter Lom-
bard's Sententiarum libri quatuor. This work employed the
method (not the arrangement) of the Sic et non, and
expounded the contents of Faith methodically, " Distinctio "
after " Distinctio," stating the proposition, citing the
authorities bearing upon it, and ending with some con-
ciliating or distinguishing statement of the true result. ^ In
canon law the same method was applied in Gratian's
Decretum, of which the proper name was Concordia
discordantium canonum.
These Books of Sentences have sometimes been called
Summae, inasmuch as their scope embraced the entire
contents of the Faith. But the term Summa may properly
be confined to those larger and still more encyclopaedic
compositions in which this scholastic method reached its
final development. The chief makers of these, the veritable
Summae theologiae, were, in order of time, Alexander of
Hales, Albertus Magnus, and Thomas Aquinas. The Books
of Sentences were books of sentences. The Summa pro-
ceeded by the same method, or rather issued from it,
as its consummation and perfect logical form ; thus the
^ See Denifle, " Die Sentenzen Abaelard's und die Bearbeitiingen seiner
Theologia," Archiv fur Literatur und Kirchengeschichte, i. p. 402 sqq. and p. 584 sqq.
Also Picavet, " Abelard et Alexander de Hales, createurs de la methode schol-
astique," Bib. de Vlcole des hautes Itudes, sciences religieuses, t. vii. p. 221 sqq.
^ For certain other precursors of the Lombard see ante, Vol. I. p. 106, note i.
He also used the Hrjyr] yvdiaeuis of John of Damascus (eighth century). This
" Spring of Knowledge " was made up from the writings of the Greek Fathers,
and is still an authoritative handbook of dogma for the Eastern church. In a
Latin translation it afforded a model for the Lombard to follow or depart from,
and also influenced Aquinas. Cf. Grabmaun, Ges. der schol. Methode, i. p. 108
sqq. ; ii. p. 128 sqq.
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 337
scholastic method arrived at its highest constructive energy.
In the Sentences one excerpted opinion was given and
another possibly divergent, and at the end an adjustment
was presented. This comparative formlessness attains in the
Summa a serried syllogistic structure. Thomas, who finally
perfects it, presents his connected and successive topics
divided into quaestiones, which are subdivided into articuli,
whose titles give the point to be discussed. He states first,
and frequently in his own syllogistic terms, the successive
negative arguments ; and then the counter-proposition,
which usually is a citation from Scripture or from Augustine.
Then with clear logic he constructs the true positive conclusion
in accordance with the authority which he has last adduced.
He then refutes each of the adverse arguments in turn.
Thus the method of the Sentences is rendered dialectic-
ally organic ; and with the perfecting of the form of quaestio
and articulus, and the logical linking of successive topics,
the whole composition, from a congeries, becomes a structure,
organic likewise, a veritable Summa, and a Summa of a
science which has unity and consistency. This science is
sacra doctrina, theologia. Moreover, as compared with the
Sentences, the contents of the Summa are enormously en-
larged. For between the time of the Lombard and that of
Thomas, there has come the whole of Aristotle, and what is
more, the mastery of the whole of Aristotle, which Thomas
incorporates in a complete and organic statement of the
Christian scheme of salvation.^
^ Two extracts, one from the Sentences and one from the Summa, touching
the same matter, will illustrate the stage in the scholastic process reached by
Peter Lombard, about the year 1150, and that attained by Thomas Aquinas a
hvmdred years later.
The Lombard's Four Books of Sentences are divided into Distinctiones, with
sub-titles to the latter. Distinctio xlvi. of the first Book bears the general title :
" The opinion (sententia) declaring that the will of God which is himself, cannot
be frustrated, seems to be opposed by some opinions." The first subdivision of
the text begins : " Here the question rises. For it is said by the authorities
above adduced [the preceding Distinctio had discussed " The will of God which
is His essence, one and eternal "] that the wUl of God, which is himself, and is
called His good pleasure (beneplacitum) cannot be frustrated, because by that
will fecit quaecumque voluit in caelo et in terra, which — witness the Apostle —
nihil resistit. [I leave the Scriptural quotations in Latin, so as to mark them.]
It is queried, therefore, how one should understand what the Apostle says con-
cerning the Lord, i Tim. 2 : Qui vult omnes homines salvos fieri. For since all
are not saved, but many are damned, that which God wills to take place, seems
VOL. II Z
338 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
not to take place (become, fieri), the human will obstructing the will of God.
The Lord also in the Gospel reproaching the wicked city, Matt, xxiii., says :
Quoties volui congregate filios tuos, sicut gallina congregat pullos suos sub alis, et
noluisU. Thus it might seem from these, that the will of God may be overcome
by the wUl of men, and, resisted by the unwillingness of the weakest, the Most
Strong may prove unable to do what He willed. Where then is that omnipotence
by which in coelo et terra, according to the Prophet, omnia quaecumque voluit fecit ?
And how does nothing withstand His wUl, if He wished to gather the children of
Jerusalem, and did not ? For these sayings seem indeed to oppose what has
been stated."
The second paragraph proceeds : " But let us see the solution, and first hear
how what the Lord said should be imderstood. For it was not intended to mean
(as Augustine says, Enchiridion, c. 97, solving this question) that the Lord wished
to gather the children of Jerusalem, and did not do what He willed because she
would not ; but rather she did not wish her children to be gathered by Him,
yet in spite of her unwillingness [qua tamen nolente) He gathered all He willed of
her children. . . . And the sense is : As many as I have gathered by my will,
always effective, I have gathered, thou being tmwUling. Hence it is evident that
these words of the Lord are not opposed to the authorities referred to."
(Paragraph 3) " Now it remains to see how the aforesaid words do not con-
tradict what the Apostle said of the Lord : Vult omnes homines salvos fieri. Because
of these words many have wandered from the truth, saying that God willed
many things which did not come to pass. But the saying is not thus to be under-
stood, as if God wUled any to be saved, and they were not. For who can be so
impiously foolish as to say that God cannot change the evil wills of men to good
when and where He will ? Surely what is said in Psalm 113, Quaecumque voluit
fecit, is not true, if He willed anything and did not accomplish it. Or, — (and
this is still more shameful) for that reason He did not do it, because what the
Omnipotent willed to come to pass, the will of man obstructed. Hence when
we read in Holy Scripture velit omnes homines salvos fieri, we should not detract
from the will of omnipotent God, but understand the text to mean that no man
is saved except whom He wUls to be saved : not that there is no man whom
He does not will to be saved, but that no man may be saved except whom He
wills should be saved. . . . Thus also is to be imderstood the text from John i. :
Illuminat omnem hominem venientem in hunc mundum ; not as if there is no
man who is not lighted, but that none is lighted save from Him. . . ."
The next and fourth paragraph takes up the problem whether evil, that is sin,
takes place by the wUl of God, or He imwUling (eo nolente). " As to this, divers
men thinking diversely have been found in contradiction. For some say that
God wills evils to be or become (esse vel fieri) yet does not wUl evils. But others
say that He neither wills evils to be nor to become. Yet these and those agree in
declaring that God does not will evils. Yet each with arguments as well as
authorities strives to make good his assertion." We will not follow the Lombard
through this thorny problem. He cuts his way with passages from his chief
patristic authority, Augustine, and in the end concludes : " Leaving this and
other like foolish opinions, and favouring the sounder view, which is more fully
sanctioned by the testimonies of the Saints, we may say that God neither wills
evils to become, nor wUls that they shoidd not become, nor yet is He imwilling
(nolle) that they should become. All that He wills to become, becomes, and all
that He wills not to become does not become. Yet many things become which
He does not will to become, as every evil."
Thus the Lombard. Now let us see how Thomas, in his Summa theologiae,
Pars Prima, Quaestio xix. Articulus ix. expounds the point : utrum voluntas Dei
sit malorum.
" As to the ninth articulus thus one proceeds, (i) It seems [Videtur, formula
for stating the initial argmnent which will not be approved] that the will of God
CHAP. XXXV METHODS OF SCHOLASTICISM 339
is [the cause] of evils. For God wUls every good that becomes (i.e. comes into
existence). But it is good that evils should come ; for Augustine says in the
Enchiridion : ' Although those things which are evUs, m so far as they are evils,
are not goods ; yet it is good (bonum) that there should be not only goods [bona)
but evils.' Therefore God wUls evils."
" (2) Moreover [Praeterea, Thomas's regular formula for introducing the
succeeding arguments, which he will not approve] Dionysius says, iv. cap. de
divinis nominibus : ' There wUl be evil making for the perfection of the whole.'
And Augustine says in the Enchiridion : ' Out of all (things) the admirable beauty
of the universe arises ; wherein even that which is caUed evil, well ordered and
set in its place, commends the good more highly ; since the good pleases more,
and is the more praiseworthy, when compared with evil.' But God wills every-
thing that pertains to the perfection and grace of the universe ; since this is what
God chiefly wills in His creation. Therefore God wills evils."
" (3) Moreover, the occurrence and non-occurrence of evils {mala fieri, et
nan fieri) are contradictory opposites. But God does not will evUs not to occur ;
because since some evils do occur, the will of God would not be fulfilled. Therefore
God wUls evils to occur."
" Sed contra est [Thomas's formula for stating the opinion which he will
approve] what Augustine says in his book of Eighty-three Questions : ' No
wise man is the author of man's deterioration ; yet God is more excellent than
any wise man ; much less then, is God the author of any one's deterioration.
But He is said to be the author when He is spoken of as wilHng anything. There-
fore man becomes worse, God not willing it. But with every evil, some one
becomes worse. Therefore God does not will evils.' "
" Respondeo dicendum quod [Thomas's formula for commencing his elucidation]
since the reason (or ground or cause, ratio) of the good is likewise the reason of
the desirable (as discussed previously), evil is opposed to good : it is impossible
that any evil, as evil, should be desired, either by the natural appetite or the
animal, or the intellectual, which is will. But some evil may be desired per
accidens, in so far as it conduces to some good. And this is apparent m any
appetite. For the natural impulse (agens naturale) does not aim at privation
or destruction (corruptio) ; but at form, to which the privation of another form
may be joined ; and at the generation of one, which is the destruction of another.
Thus a lion, killing a stag, aims at food, to which is joined the Mlling of an animal.
Likewise the fornicator aims at enjoyment, to which is joined the deformitv of
guilt. ^
" Thus evil which is joined to some good, is privation of another good. Never,
therefore, is evil desired, not even per accidens, unless the good to which the'
evil is joined appears greater than the good which is annuUed through the evil.
But God wUls no good more than His goodness ; yet He wills some one good
more than some other good. Hence the evil of guilt, which destroys relationship
to divine good (quod privat ordinem ad bonum divinum), God in no way wills.
But the evil of natural defect, or the evil of penalty. He wOls in willing some good
to which such evil is joined ; as, in willing righteousness. He wills penalty ; and in
willing that the order of nature be preserved. He wills certain natural corruptions.
"Ad primum ergo dicendum [Thomas's formula for commencing his reply to
the first false argument] that certain ones have said that although God does not
will evils. He wills evils to be or become : because, although evils are not goods,
yet it is good that evils should be or become. They said this for the reason that
those things which are evU in themselves, are ordained for some good ; and they
deemed this ordainment involved in saying bonum est mala esse vel fieri. Bui
that is not said rightly. Because evil is not ordained for good per se but per
accidens. For it is beyond the sinner's intent that good should come of it ; just
as it was beyond the intent of the tyrants that from their persecutions the patience
of the martyrs should shine forth. And therefore it cannot be said that such
340 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
ordainment for good is involved in saying that it is good for evil to be or become :
because nothing is adjudged according to what pertains to it pet accidens but
according to what pertains to it per se."
" Ad secundum dicendum that evil is not wrought for the perfection or beauty
of the whole except per accidens, as has been shown. Hence this which Dionysius
says, that evil makes for the perfection of the whole, may lead to an illogical con-
clusion."
"Ad tertium dicendum that although the occiurrence and non-occurrence of
evils are opposed as contradictories ; yet to will the occiurence and to wiU the
non-occurrence of evUs, are not opposed as contradictories, since both one and
the other are affirmative. God therefore neither wills the occurrence nor the
non-occurrence of evils ; but wills to permit their occurrence. And this is good."
As to matters discussed in this Chapter and in Chapter XXXVI., see
generally the important work of M. Grabmann, Geschichte der scholastischen
Methode (Freiburg i. B., vols. i. and ii., 1909, 191 1 ; vol. iii., on the fully
developed scholasticism of the thirteenth century, has not appeared). As to
the Lombard especially, see Grabmann, o.c, ii. p. 359 sqq.
CHAPTER XXXVI
CLASSIFICATION OF TOPICS ; STAGES OF EVOLUTION
I. Philosophic Classification of the Sciences ; the Arrange-
ment OF Vincent's Encyclopaedia, of the Lombard's
Sentences, of Aquinas's Summa theologiae.
n. The Stages of Development: Grammar, Logic, Meta-
LOGICS.
The problem of classification presented itself to Gerbert as
one involved in the rational study of the ancient material,^
As scholasticism culminated in the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries, the problem became one of arrangement and
presentation of the mass of knowledge and argument
which the Middle Ages had at length made their own, and
were prepared to re-express. This ordering was influenced
by a twofold principle of classification ; for, as abundantly
shown by Aquinas,^ theology in which all is ordered with
reference to God, will properly follow an arrangement of
topics quite unsuitable to the natural or human sciences,
which treat of things with respect to themselves. But
the mediaeval practice was more confused than the theory ;
because the interest in human knowledge was apt to be
touched by motives sounding in the need of divine salvation ;
and speculation could not free itself from the moving
principles of Christian theology. On the other hand, an
enormous quantity of human dialectic, and a prodigious
mass of what strikes us as profane information, or mis-
information, was carried into the mediaeval Summa, and still
more into those encyclopaedias which attempted to include
^ Ante, Chapter XII. * Ante, pp. 319 sqq.
341
342 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
all knowledge, and still were influenced in their aim by a
religious purpose.^
As the human sciences came from the pagan antique,
the accepted classifications of them naturally were taken
from Greek philosophy. They followed either the so-called
Platonic division, into Physics, Ethics, and Logic,^ or the
Aristotelian division of philosophy into theoretical and
practical. The former scheme, of which it is not certain
that Plato was the author, passed on through the Stoic and
Epicurean systems of philosophy, was recognized by the
Church Fathers, and received Augustine's approval. It was
made known to the Middle Ages through Cassiodorus,
Isidore, Alcuin, Rabanus, Eriugena, and others.
Nevertheless the Aristotelian division of philosophy into
theoretical and practical was destined to prevail. It was
introduced to the western Middle Ages through Boethius's
Commentary on Porphyry's Isagoge,^ and adopted by
Gerbert ; later it passed over through translations of Arabic
writings. It was accepted by Hugo of St. Victor, by
Albertus Magnus and by Thomas, to mention only the
greatest names ; and was set forth in detail with explanation
and comment in a number of treatises, such as Gundissalinus's
De divisione philosophiae, and Hugo of St. Victor's Eruditio
didascalica,^ which were formal and schematic introductions
to the study of philosophy and its various branches.
The usual subdivisions of these two general parts of
philosophy were as follows. Theoretica (or Theorica) was
divided into (i) Physics, or scientia naturalis, (2) Mathematics,
and (3) Metaphysics or Theology, or divina scientia, as it
might be called. Physics and Mathematics were again
divided into more special sciences. Practica was divided
commonly into Ethics, Economics, Politics, or into Ethics
and Artes mechanicae. There was a difference of opinion as
1 The Speculum majus of Vincent of Beauvais will afford the principal example
of the resulting hybrid arrangement.
2 Ludwig Baur, Dominicus Gundissalinus, De divisione philosophiae (Baeumker's
Beitrdge, Miinster, 1903), p. 193 sqq., to which I am indebted for what I have
to say in the next few pages. Cf. Grabmann, o.c, ii. p. 28 sqq.
' Migne, Pat. Lot. 64, col. 10 sqq.
* These works were written near the middle of the twelfth century. Gundis-
salinus was Archdeacon of Segovia and drew upon Arab writings.
CHAP. XXXVI CLASSIFICATION OF TOPICS 343
to what to do with Logic. It had, to be sure, its position in
the current Trivium, along with grammar and rhetoric. But
this was merely current, and might not approve itself on
deeper reflection. Gundissalinus speaks of three propae-
deutic sciences, the scientiae eloquentiae, grammar, poetics,
and rhetoric, and then puts Logic after them as a scientia media
between these primary educational matters and philosophy,
i.e. the whole range of knowledge, theoretical and practical.
Again, over against philosophia realis, which contains both
the theoretica (or speculativa) and the practica, Thomas
Aquinas sets the philosophia rationalis, or logic ; and Richard
Kilwardby opposes logica, the scientia rationalis, to practica,
in his division.^
This last-named philosopher was the pupil and then the
hostile critic of Aquinas, and also became Archbishop of
Canterbury. He was the author of a careful and elaborate
classification of the parts of philosophy, entitled De ortu et
divisione philosophiae.^ In it, following the broad distinction
between res divinae and res humanae, Kilwardby divides
philosophy into speculativa and practica. Speculativa is
divided into naturalis (physics), mathematica, and divina
(metaphysics). He does not divide the first and third of
these ; but he divides mathematica into those sciences which
treat of quantity in continuity and separation respectively
[quantitas continua and quantitas discreta). The former
embrace geometry, astronomy and astrology, and perspec-
tive ; the latter, music and arithmetic. Practica, which is
concerned with res humanae, is divided into activa and
sermocinalis : because res humanae consist either of opera-
tiones or locutiones. The activa embraces Ethics and
mechanics ; the scientia sermocinalis embraces grammar,
logic, and rhetoric. Such are Kilwardby's bare captions ;
his treatise lengthily treats of the interrelations of these
various branches of knowledge.
An idea of the scholastic discussion of the classification
of sciences may be had by following Albertus Magnus's
ponderous approach to a consideration of logic : whether it
^ See L. Baiir, Gundissalinus, etc., p. 376 sqq.
^ The treatise is not printed. Its captions are given by L. Baur in his Gundis-
salinus, pp. 368-375, from which I have borrowed what I give of them.
344 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
be a science, and, if so, what place should be allotted it.
We draw from the opening of his liber on the Predicdbles}
that is to say, his exposition of Porphyry's Introduction.
Albert will consider " what kind of a science {qualis scientia)
logic may be, and whether it is any part of philosophy ; what
need there is of it, and what may be its use ; then of what
it treats, and what are its divisions." The ancients seem
to have disagreed, some saying that logic is no science, since
it is rather a modus (mode, manner or method) of every
science or branch of knowledge. But these, continues
Albertus, have not reflected that although there are many
sciences, and each has its special modus, yet there is one
modus common to all sciences, pertaining to that which is
common to them all : the principle, to wit, that through
reason's inquiry, from what is known one arrives at know-
ledge of the unknown. This mode or method, common
to every science, may be considered in itself, and so may be
the subject of a special science. After further balancing of
the reasons and authorities pro and con, Albertus concludes :
" It is therefore clear that logic is a special science just as in
ironworking there is the special art of making a hammer, yet its
use pertains to everything made by the ironworker's craft. So
this process of discovering the unknown through the known, is
something special, and may be studied as a special art and science;
yet the use of it pertains to all sciences."
He next considers whether logic is a part of philosophy.
Some say no, since there are (as they say) only three divisions
of philosophy, physics, mathematics, and metaphysics ;
others say that logic is a modus of philosophy and not one of
its divisions. But, on the contrary, it is shown by others
that this view of philosophy omits the practical side, for
philosophy's scope comprehends the truth of everything
which man may understand, including the truth of that
which is in ourselves, and strives to comprehend both truth
and the process of advancing from the known to a knowledge
of the unknown. These point out that
^ Liber de praedicahilibus (tome i. of Albertus's works), which in scholastic
logic means the five " universals," genus, species, difference, property, accident
(also called the quinque voces), discussed in Porphyry's Introduction to the Cate-
gories. The Categories themselves are called praedicamenta.
CHAP. XXXVI CLASSIFICATION OF TOPICS 345
"... the Peripatetics divided philosophy first into three parts,
to wit, into physicam generaliier dictam, and ethicam generaliter
dictum, and rationalem Ukewise taken broadly. I call physica
generaliter dicta that which embraces scientia naturalis, discip-
linalis, and divina {i.e. physics in a narrower sense, mathematics
which is called scientia disciplinalis, and metaphysics which is
scientia divina). And I call ethica, that which, broadly taken,
contains the scientia monastica, oeconomica and civilis. And I
call that the scientia rationalis, broadly taken, which includes
every mode of proceeding from the known to the unknown.
From which it is evident that logic is a part of philosophy."
And finally it may be shown that
" if anything is within the scope of philosophy it must be that
without which philosophy cannot reach any knowledge. He who
is ignorant of logic can acquire no perfect cognition of the un-
known, because he is ignorant of the way in which he should
proceed from the known to the unknown."
From these latter arguments, approved by him and in
part stated as his own, Albertus advances to a classification
of the parts of logic, which he makes to include rhetoric,
poetics, and dialectic, and to be demonstrative, sophistical or
disputatious, according to the use to which logic (broadly
taken) is applied and the manner in which it may in each
case proceed, in advancing from the known to some farther
ascertainment or demonstration.^ Soon after this, in dis-
cussing the subject of this science, Albertus points out how
logic differs from rhetoric and poetics, although with them
it may treat of sermo, or speech, and be called a scientia
sermonalis ; for, unlike them, it treats of sermo merely as a
means of drawing conclusions, and not in and for itself.
From the purely philosophical division of the sciences
we pass to the hybrid arrangement adopted by Vincent of
Beauvais, who died in 1264. This man was a prodigious
devourer of books, and for a sufficient pabulum, St. Louis
set before him his collection of twelve hundred volumes.
Thereupon Vincent compiled the most famous of mediaeval
encyclopaedias, employing in that labour enormous diligence
and a number of assistants. His ponderous Speculum majus
^ The above gives the arguments of chapters i. and ii. of the work. One
notices that Albertus in this exposition of the subject of Porphyry's treatise, is
using the method which Thomas brings to syllogistic perfection in his Summa.
346 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
is drawn from the most serviceable sources, including the
works of Albertus, his contemporary, and great scholastics
like Hugo of St. Victor, who were no more. It consisted
of the speculum naturale, doctrinale, and historiale ; and
a fourth, the Speculum morale, was added by a later hand.^
Turning its leaves, and reading snatches here and there,
especially from its Prologues, we shall gain a sufficient
illustration of the arrangement of topics followed by this
writer, whose faculties seem to drown in his shoreless
undertaking. 2
In his turgid generalis prologus to the Speculum naturale,
Vincent presents his motives for collecting in one volume.
"... certain flowers according to my modicum of faculty,
gathered from every one I have been able to read, whether of
our Catholic Doctors or the Gentile philosophers and poets.
Especially have I drawn from them what seemed to pertain either
to the building up of our dogma, or to moral instruction, or to
the incitement of charity's devotion, or to the mystic exposition
of divine Scripture, or to the manifest or symbolical explanation
of its truth. Thus by one grand opus I would appease my
studiousness, and perchance, by my labours, profit those who,
like me, try to read as many books as possible, and cull their
flowers. Indeed of making many books there is no end, and
neither is the eye of the curious reader satisfied, nor the ear of
the auditor."
He then refers to the evils of false copying and the
ascription of extracts to the wrong author. And it seems to
him that Church History has been rather neglected, while
men have been intent on expounding knotty problems.
And now considering how to proceed and group his various
matters, Vincent could find no better method than the one
he has chosen, "to wit, that after the order of Holy Scripture,
^ It was printed, more than once, in the late fifteenth century ; the most
readable edition is that printed at Douai in 1624, in four huge folios.
^ Boimdless as the work appears, neither in mental powers, nor learning, nor
in massiveness of achievement, is its author to be compared with Albertus Magnus.
The De universo of Rabanus Maurus, Migne in, col. 9-612, is in its arrangement
and method a forerunner of Vincent's Speculum. Later predecessors were the
English Franciscan Bartolomaeus, whose encyclopaedic De proprieiatibus rerum
was written a little before the middle of the twelfth century (see Felder, Studien
in Franciscanerorder, etc., pp. 251-253), and Lambertus Audomarensis (St. Omer)
with his Liber floridus, a general digest of knowledge, historical, ecclesiastical,
and natural, taken from many writers, an account of which is given in Migne
163, col. 1004 sqq.
CHAP. XXXVI CLASSIFICATION OF TOPICS 347
I should treat first of the Creator, next of the creation, then
of man's fall and reparation, and then of events {rebus
gestis) chronologically." He proposes to give a summary
of titles at the end of the work. Sometimes he may state
as his own, things he has had from his teachers or from very
well-known books ; and he admits that he did not have time
to collate the gesta martyrum, and so some of the abstracts
which he gives of these are not by his own hand, but by the
hand of scribes {notariorum) .
Vincent proposes to call the whole work Speculum
majus, a Speculum indeed, or an Imago mundi, " containing
in brief whatever, from unnumbered books, I have been able
to gather, worthy of consideration, admiration, or imitation
as to things which have been made or done or said in the visible
or invisible world from the beginning until the end, and even
of things to come." He briefly adverts to the utility of his
work, and then gives his motive for including history. This
he thinks will help us to understand the story of Christ ;
and from a perusal of the wars which took place "before the
advent of our pacific King, the reader will perceive with
what zeal we should fight against our spiritual foes, for our
salvation and the eternal glory promised us." From the
great slaughter of men in many wars, may be realized also
the severity of God against the wicked, who are slain like
sheep, and perish body and soul.^
As to nature, Vincent says :
" Moreover I have diligently described the nature of things,
which, I think, no one will deem useless, who, in the light of
grace, has read of the power, wisdom and goodness of God,
creator, ruler and preserver, in that same book of the Creation
appointed for us to read."
Moreover, to know about things is useful for preachers
and theologians, as Augustine says. But Vincent is
conscious of another motive also :
" Verily how great is even the humblest beauty of this world,
and how pleasing to the eye of reason diligently considering not
only the modes and numbers and orders of things, so decorously
1 Here, of course, we have the hands of Esau, but the voice of Augustine and
Orosius !
348 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvu
appointed throughout the universe, but also the revolving ages
which are ceaselessly uncoiled through abatements and succes-
sions, and are marked by the death of what is bom. I confess,
sinner as I am, with mind befouled in flesh, that I am moved
with spiritual sweetness toward the creator and ruler of this
world, and honour Him with greater veneration, when I behold
at once the magnitude, and beauty and permanence of His
creation. For the mind, lifting itself from the dunghill of its
affections, and rising, as it is able, into the light of speculation,
sees as from a height the greatness of the universe containing in
itself infinite places filled with the divers orders of creatures."
Here Vincent feels it well to apologize for the limitless-
ness of his matter, being only an excerptor, and not really
knowing even a single science ; and he refers to the example
of Isidore's Etymologiae. He proceeds to enumerate the
various sources upon which he relies, and then to summarize
the headings of his work ; which in brief are as follows :
The Creator.
The empyrean heaven and the nature of angels ; the state of
the good, and the ruin of the proud, angels.
The formless material and the making of the world, and the
nature and properties of each created being, according to the
order of the Works of the Six Days.
The state of the first man.
• The nature and energies of the soul, and the senses and parts
of the human body.
God's rest and way of working.
The state of the first man and the felicity of Paradise.
Man's fall and punishment.
Sin.
The reparation of the Fall.
The properties of faith and other virtues in order, and the
gifts of the Holy Spirit, and the beatitudes.
The number and matter of all the sciences.
Chronological history of events in the world, and memorable
sayings, from the beginning to our time, with a consideration of the
state of souls separated from their bodies, of the times to come, of
Antichrist, the end of the World, the resurrection of the dead, the
glorification of the saints and the punishments of the wicked.
One may stand aghast at the programme. Yet practi-
cally all of it would go into a Summa theologiae, excepting
the human history, and the matter of what we should call
the arts and sciences ! A programme like this might be
CHAP. XXXVI CLASSIFICATION OF TOPICS 349
handled summarily, according to the broad captions under
which it is stated ; or it might be carried out in such detail
as to include all available information, or opinion, touching
every part of every topic included under these universal
heads. The latter is Vincent's way. Practically he tries to
include all knowledge upon everything. The first of his
tomes (the Speculum naturale) is to be devoted to a full de-
scription of the forms and species of created beings, which
make up the visible world. Yet it includes much relating to
beings commonly invisible ; for Vincent begins with a treat-
ment of the angels. He then passes to a consideration of the
seven heavens ; and then to the physical phenomena of
nature ; then on to every known species of plant, the cultiva-
tion of trees and vines, and the making of wine ; then to the
celestial bodies, and after this to living things, birds, fishes,
savage beasts, reptiles, the anatomy of animals, — and at last
comes to man. He discusses him body and soul, his psycho-
logy, and the phenomena of sleep and waking ; then human
anatomy — ^nor can he keep from considerations touching the
whole creation ; then human generation, and a description
of the countries and regions of the earth, with a brief com-
pendium of history until the time of Antichrist and the Last
Judgment. Of course he is utterly uncritical, even the
pseudo-Turpin's fictions as to Charlemagne serving him for
authority.
Vincent's Prologue to his second tome, the Speculum
doctrinale, briefly mentions the topics of the tola nafuralis
historia, contained in his first giant tome. In that he had
brought his matter down to God's creation of humana
natura, omnium rerum finis ac summa — and its spoliation
{destitutio) through sin. Humana natura as constituted by
God, was a universitas of all nature or created being, corporeal
and spiritual. Now
" in this second part, in like fashion we propose to treat of the
plenary restitution of that destitute nature. . . . And since that
restitution, or restoration, is effected and perfected by doctrina
(imparted knowledge, science), this part not improperly is called
the Speculum doctrinale. For of a surety everything pertaining
to recovering or defending man's spiritual or temporal welfare
{salutem) is embraced under doctrina. In this book, the sciences
350 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
(doctrinae) and arts are treated thus : First concerning all of them
in general, to wit, concerning their invention, origin and species ;
and concerning the method of acquiring them. Then concerning
the singular arts and sciences in particular. And here first con-
cerning those of the Trivium, which are devoted to language
(grammar, rhetoric, logic) ; for without these, the others cannot
be learned or communicated. Next concerning the practical
ones {practica), because through them, the eyes of the mind being
clarified, one ascends to the speculative {theonca). Then also
concerning the mechanical ones ; since, as they consist in making
(operatio), they are joined by affinity to the practica. Finally
concerning the speculative sciences {theorica), because the end
and aim (finis) of all the rest is placed by the wise in them. And
since (as Jerome says) one cannot know the power (vis) of the
antidote unless the power of the poison first is understood, there-
fore to the reparatio doctrinalis of the human race, the subject of
the book, something is prefixed as a brief epilogue from the
former book, concerning the fall and misery of man, in which he
still labours, as the penalty for his sin, in lamentable exile."
So Vincent begins with the fall and misery of man ;
the peccatum and the supplicium. Then he proceeds to
discuss the goods (bona) which God bestows, like the mental
powers by which man may learn wisdom, and how to strive
against error and vice, and be overcome solely by the desire
of the highest and immutable good. He speaks also of the
corporeal goods bestowed on man, and the beauty and
utility of visible things ; and then of the principal evils ; —
ignorance which corrupts the divine image in man, concupis-
cence which destroys the divine similitude, sickness which
destroys his original bodily immortality. ' ' And the remedies
are three by which these three evils may be repelled, and
the three goods restored, to wit. Wisdom, Virtue, and Need."
Here we touch the gist of the ordering of {topics in the
Speculum doctrinale, which treats of all the arts and
sciences :
" For the obtaining of these three remedies every art and every
disciplina was invented. In order to gain Wisdom, Theorica was
devised ; and Practica for the sake of virtue ; and for Need's sake,
Mechanica. Theorica driving out ignorance, illuminates Wisdom ;
Practica shutting out vice, strengthens Virtue ; Mechanica pro-
viding against penury, tempers the infirmities of the present life.
Theorica, in all that is and that is not, chooses to investigate the
CHAP. XXXVI CLASSIFICATION OF TOPICS 351
true. Practica determines the correct way of living and the
form of discipline, according to the institution of the virtues.
Mechanica, occupied with fleeting things, strives to provide for
the needs of the body. For the end and aim of all human actions
and studies, which reason regulates, ought to look either to the
reparation of the integrity of our nature or to alleviating the
needs to which hfe is subjected. The integrity of our nature is
repaired by Wisdom, to which Theorica relates, and by Virtue,
which Practica cultivates. Need is alleviated by the administra-
tion of temporahties, to which Mechanica attends. Last found
of all is Logic, source of eloquence, through which the wise who
understand the aforesaid principal sciences and disciplines, may
discourse upon them more correctly, truly and elegantly ; more
correctly, through Grammar ; more truly, through Dialectic ;
more elegantly, through Rhetoric." ^
Thus the entire round of arts and sciences is connected
with man's corporeal and spiritual welfare, and is made to
bear directly or indirectly on his salvation. All constitutes
doctrina, and by doctrina man is saved. This is the reason
for including the arts and sciences in one tome, rightly called
the Speculum doctrinale. We need not follow the detail, but
may view as from afar the long course ploughed by Vincent
through his matter. He first sketches the history of antique
philosophy, and then turns to books and language, and
presents a glossary of Latin synonyms. Book II. treats of
Grammar, Book III. of Logic, Book IV. of Practica scientia
or Ethica, first giving pagan ethics and then passing on to
the virtues of the monastic life. Book V. is a continuation
of this subject. Book VI. concerns the Scientia oeconomica,
treating of domestic economy, then of agriculture. Books
VII. and VIII. take up Politica, and, having discussed
political institutions, proceed to a treatment of law — the law
of persons, things, and actions, according to the canon and
the civil law. Books IX. and X. consider Crimes — simony,
heresy, perjury, sacrilege, homicide, rape, adultery, robbery,
usury. Book XL is more cheerful, De arte mechanica, and
tells of building, the military art, navigation, alchemy, and
metals. Book XII. is Medicine, and Books XIII. and XIV.
discuss Physics, in connection with the healing art. Book
XV. is Natural Philosophy — animals and plants. Book
^ The above is from cap. 9 of liber i. of the Speculum doctrinale.
352 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
XVI., De mathematica, treats of arithmetic, music, geometry,
astronomy, and metaphysics cursorily. Book XVII. like-
wise thins out in a somewhat slight discussion of Theology,
which was to form the topic of the tome that Vincent did not
write.
But Vincent did complete another tome, the Speculum
historiale. It is a loosely chronological compilation of
tradition, myth, and history, with discursions upon the
literary works of the characters coming under review. It
would be tedious to follow its excerpted presentation of
the profane and sacred matter.
We may leave Vincent, with the obvious reflection that
his work is a conglomerate, both in arrangement and con-
tents. It has the pious aim of contributing to man's salva-
tion, and yet is an attempted universal encyclopaedia of
human knowledge, much of which is plainly secular and
mundane. The monstrous scope and dual purpose of the
work prevented any unity in method and arrangement.
More single in aim, and better arranged in consequence, are
the Sentences of Peter Lombard and the Summa theologiae of
Aquinas. For although their scope, at least the scope of the
Summa, is wide, all is ordered with respect to the true aim of
sacra doctrina, just as Thomas explained in the passage which
we have already given.
The alleged principle of the Lombard's division strikes
one as curious ; yet he got it from Augustine : Signum and
res — the symbol and the thing : verily an age-long play of
spiritual tendency lay behind these contrasted concepts.
Christian doctrina related, perhaps chiefly, to the significance
of signa, signs, symbols, allegories, mysteries, sacraments.
It was not so strange that the Lombard made this antithesis
the ground of his arrangement. Quite as of course he
begins by saying it is clear to any one who considers, with
God's grace, that the " contents of the Old and New Law
are occupied either with res or signa. For as the eminent
doctor Augustine says in his Doctrina Christiana, all teaching
is of things or signs ; but things are also learned through
signs. Properly those are called res which are not employed
in order to signify something ; while signa are those whose
use is to signify." Then the Lombard separates the
CHAP. XXXVI CLASSIFICATION OF TOPICS 353
sacraments from other signa, because they not only signify,
but also confer saving aid ; and he points out that evidently
a signum is also some sort of a thing ; but not everything is
a signum. He wiU treat first of res and then of signa.
As to res, one must bear in mind, as Augustine says,
that some things are to be enjoyed (fruendum), as from love
we cleave to them for their own sake ; and others are to be
used {utendum) as a means ; and stiU others to be both
enjoyed and used.
" Those which are to be enjoyed make us blessed {beatos) ;
those which are to be used, aid us striving for blessedness. . . .
We ourselves are the things which are both to be enjoyed and
used, and also the angels and the saints. . . . The things which
are to be enjoyed are Father, Son, and Holy Spirit ; and so the
Trinity is summa res."
So the Lombard's first two Books consider res in the
descending order of their excellence ; the third considers the
Incarnation, which, if not itself a sacrament, and the chief
and sum of all sacraments, is the source of those of the New
Law, considered in the fourth Book. The scheme is single and
orderly; the difficulty will be in actually arranging the various
topics within it. Endeavouring to do so, the Lombard
in Book I. puts together the doctrine of the Trinity,
of the three Persons composing it, and their attributes
and qualities. Book II. considers in order, the Angels and,
very briefly, the work of the Six Days down to the creation
of man ; then the Christian doctrina as to man is presented :
his creation and its reasons ; the creation of his anima ; the
creation of woman ; the condition of man and woman
before the Fall ; their sin ; next, free-wiU and grace. Book
III. treats of the Incarnation, in all the aspects in which it
may be known, and of the nature of Christ, His saving merit,
and the grace which was in Him ; also of the virtues of
faith, hope, and charity, the seven gifts of the Spirit, and the
existence of them all in Christ. Book IV. considers the
Sacraments of the New Law : Baptism, Confirmation, the
Eucharist, penance, extreme unction, ordination to holy
orders, marriage. It concludes with setting forth the
Resurrection and the Last Judgment.
VOL. II 2 A
354 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
The first chapters of Genesis were the ultimate source of
the Lombard's actual arrangement. And the Summa will
follow the same order of treatment. One may perceive how
naturally the adoption of this order came to Christian
theologians by glancing over Augustine's De Genesi ad
litteram.^ This Commentary was partially constructive, and
not simply exegetical ; and afforded a cadre, or frame, of
topical ordering, which could readily be filled out with the
contents of the Sentences or even of the Summa : God, in
His unity and trinity, the Creation, man especially, his fall,
the Incarnation as the saving means of his restoration, and
then the Sacraments, and the final Judgment unto heaven
and hell. One may say that this was the natural and
proper order of presenting the contents of the Christian
sacra doctrina.
So the great Summa theologiae of Thomas Aquinas adopts
the same order which the Lombard had followed. The
Pars prima begins with defining sacra doctrina.^ It then
proceeds to consider God — whether he exists ; then treats
of His simplicitas and perfectio ; next of His attributes ;
His bonitas, infinitas, immutahilitas, aeternitas, unitas ; then
of our knowledge of Him ; then of His knowledge, and
therein of truth and falsity ; thereupon are considered the
divine will, love, justice, and pity ; the divine providence
and predestination ; the divine power and beatitude.
All this pertains to the unitas of the divine essence ;
and now Thomas passes on to the Trinitas personarum, or
the more distinctive portions of Christian theology. He
treats of the processio and relationes of the divinae Personae,
and then of themselves — Father, Son, Holy Spirit — and
then of their essential relationship and properties. Next he
discusses the missio of the divine Persons, and the relations
between God and His Creation. First comes the consideration
of the principle of creation, the processio creaturarum a Deo,
and of the nature of created things, with some discussion of
evil, whether it be a thing.
Among created beings, Thomas treats first of angels, and
at great length ; then of the physical creation, in its order —
the work of the six days, but with no great detail. Then
1 Migne, Pat. Lat. 34, col. 246-485. ^ Ante, p. 320 sqq.
CHAP. XXXVI CLASSIFICATION OF TOPICS 355
man, created of spiritual and corporeal substance — his
complex nature is to be analysed and fathomed to its depths.
Thomas discusses the union of the anima ad corpus ; then
the powers of the anima, in generali and in speciali — the
intellectual faculties, the appetites, the will and its freedom
of choice ; how the anima knows — the full Aristotelian theory
of cognition is given. Next, more specifically as to the
creation of the soul and body of the first man, and the
nature of the image and similitude of God within him ; then
as to man's condition and faculties while in a state of
innocence ; also as to Paradise.
This closes the treatment of the creatio et distinctio
rerum ; and Thomas passes to their gubernatio, and the
problem of how God conserves and moves the corporeal
and spiritual ; then concerning the action of one creature
on another, and how the angels are ranged in hierarchies,
and although purely spiritual beings, riiinister to men and
guard them ; then concerning the action of corporeal things,
concerning fate, and the action of men upon men.
Here ends Pars prima. The first section of the second
part {Prima secundae) begins. In a short Prologue Thomas
says that having considered God the Exemplar and His
creations, it remains to consider man the Image, in so far
as he is the source of his own acts. He then takes up in
order : the ultimate end of man ; the nature of man's
beatitude, and wherein it consists, and how it may be
attained ; then voluntary and involuntary acts, and the
nature and action of wiU ; then fruition, intention, election,
deliberation, consent, and actions good and bad, flowing
from the will ; then the passions, — concupiscence and
pleasure, sadness, hope and despair, fear, anger ; next habits
{habitus) and the virtues, intellectual, cardinal, theological ;
the gifts of the Spirit, and the beatitudes ; the vices, and
sin, and penalty. Thereupon it becomes proper to consider
the external causes {principia) of acts : " The external cause
{principium) moving toward good is God ; who instructs us
through law, and aids us through grace. Therefore we must
speak, first of law, then of grace." So Thomas discusses :
the essentia of law, and the different kinds of law — lex aeterna,
lex naturalis, lex humana — their effect and validity ; then
356 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
the precepts of the Old Law (of the Old Testament) ; then
as to the law of the Gospel and the need of grace ; and
lastly, concerning grace and human merit.
The Secunda secundae (the second division of the second
part) opens with a Prologue, in which the author says that,
having considered generally the virtues and vices, and other
things pertaining to the matter of ethics, it is needful to
consider these same matters more particularly, each in turn ;
" for general moral statements [sermones morales universales)
are less useful, inasmuch as actions are always in particu-
larihus." A more special statement of moral rules may
proceed in two ways : the one from the side of the moral
material, discussing this or that virtue or vice ; the other
considers what applies to special orders {speciales status) of
men, for instance prelates and the lower clergy, or men
devoted to the active or contemplative religious life. " We
shall, therefore, consider specially, first what applies to aU
conditions of men, and then what applies to certain orders
{deter minatos status)." Thomas adds that it will be best to
consider in each case the virtue and corresponding gift, and
the opposing vice, together ; also that " virtues are reducible
to seven, the three theological,^ and the four cardinal virtues.
Of the intellectual virtues, one is Prudence, which is numbered
with the cardinal virtues ; but ars does not pertain to morals,
which relate to what is to be done, while ars is the correct
faculty of making things {recta ratio factibilium) .^ The
other three intellectual virtues, sapientia, intellectus, et
scientia, bear the names of certain gifts of the Holy Spirit, and
are considered with them. Moral virtues are all reducible
to the cardinal virtues ; and therefore in considering each
cardinal virtue all the virtues related to it are considered,
and the opposite vices."
This classification of the virtues seems anything but
clear. And perhaps the weakest feature of the Summa is
1 The three theological virtues are fides, spes, and caritas. They are called
thus because Deum habent pro objecto ; and because they are poured (infundun-
tur) into us by God alone. They are distinguished from the moral and intellectual
virtues because their object surpasses our reason, while the object of the moral
and intellectual virtues can be comprehended by human reason {Summa, Pars
prima secundae, Quaestio Ixii., Art. 1-4).
^ 'i^is fj-era, \6yov dXTjdovs iroi'qTLKT], Arist. Nich. Ethics, vi. 4.
CHAP. XXXVI CLASSIFICATION OF TOPICS 3 57
this scarcely successful ordering, or combination, of the
Aristotelian virtues with those more germane to the Chris-
tian scheme. However this may be, the author of the
Summa proceeds to consider in order : fides, and the gifts
{dona) of intellectus and scientia which correspond to the
virtue faith ; next the opposing vices : infidelitas, haeresis,
apostasia, hlasphemia, and caecitas mentis (spiritual blindness) .
Next in order come the virtue spes, and the corresponding
gift of the Spirit, timor, and the opposing vices of desperatio
and praesumptio} Next, caritas, with its dilectio, its gaudium,
its pax, its misericordia, its beneficentia and eleemosyna, and
its correctio fraterna ; then the opposite vices, odium, acedia,
invidia, discordia, contentio, schisma, helium, rixa, seditio,
scandalum. Next the donum sapientiae, and its opposite,
stuUitia ; next, prudentia, and its correspondent gift, con-
silium ; and its connected vices, imprudentia, negligentia,
and its evil semblances, dolus andfraus.
Says Thomas : Consequenter post prudentiam consideran-
dum est de Justitia. Whereupon foUows a juristic treat-
ment oijus, justitia, judicium, restitutio, acceptio personarum ;
then homicide and other crimes recognized by law. Then
come the virtues connected with justitia, to wit, religio, and
its acts, devotio, oratio, adoratio, sacrificium, oblatio, decimae,
votum, juramentum ; then the vices opposed to religio :
superstitio, idolatria, tentatio Dei, perjurium, sacrilegium,
simonia. Next is considered the virtue of pietas ; then
observantia, with its parts, i.e. dulia (service), obedientia, and
its opposite, inobedientia. Next, gratia (thanks) or gratitudo,
and its opposite, ingratitudo ; next, vindicatio (punishment) ;
next, Veritas, with its opposites, hypocrisis, jactantia (boast-
ing), and ironia ; next, amicitia, with the vices of adulatio
and litigium. Next, the virtue of liberalitas, and its vices,
avaritia a.nd prodigalitas ; next, epieikeia {aequitas). Finally,
closing this discussion of all that is connected with Justitia,
Thomas speaks of its corresponding gift of the Spirit, pietas.
Now comes the third cardinal virtue, Fortitudo — ^under
which martyrium is the type of virtuous act ; intimiditas
and audacia are the two vices. Then the parts of Fortitudo,
1 One notes that these two, like many other of the vices enumerated, are
vices in that they are extremes, in the Aristotelian sense.
358 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
to wit, magnanimitas, magnificentia, pafientia, per sever antia,
and the obvious opposing vices. Next, the fourth cardinal
virtue, Temperantia, its obvious opposing vices, and its parts,
to wit, verecundia, honestas, ahstinentia, sohrietas, castitas,
dementia, modestia, humilitas, and the various appropriate
acts and opposing vices related to these special virtues.
So far,^ Thomas has been considering the virtues proper
for all men ; and now he comes to those specially pertaining
to certain kinds of men, according to their gifts of grace,
their modes of life, or the diversity of their offices, or stations.
Of the special virtues related to gifts of grace, the first
is prophetia, next raptus (vision), then gratia linguarum,
and gratia miraculorum. After this, the vita activa and con-
templativa, with their appropriate virtues, are considered.
And then Thomas proceeds to speak De officiis et statibus
hominum, and their respective virtues.
Here ends the Secunda secundae, and Pars tertia opens
with this Prologue :
" Inasmuch as our Saviour Jesus Christ (as witnesseth the
Angel, populum suum salvum faciens a peccatis eorum) has shown
in himself the way of truth, through which we are able to come
to the beatitude of immortal life by rising again, it is necessary,
for the consummation of the whole theological matter, after the
consideration of the final end of human life, and of the virtues
and vices, that our attention should be fixed upon the Saviour
of all and His benefactions to the human race.
"As to which, first one must consider the Saviour himself ;
secondly, His sacraments, by which we obtain salvation ; thirdly,
concerning the end (finis), immortal life, to which we come by
rising again through Him.
"As to the first, one has to consider the mystery of the In-
carnation, in which God was made man for our salvation, and
then those things that were done and suffered by our Saviour,
that is, God incarnate."
This Prologue indicates sufficiently the order of topics in
the Pars tertia of the Summa, through Quaestio xc, at
which point the hand of the Angelic Doctor was folded to
eternal rest. He was then considering penance, the fourth
in his order of Sacraments. AU that he had to say as to
the person, and attributes, and acts and passion of Christ
1 We are at Quaestio clxxi. of Secunda secundae.
CHAP. XXXVI STAGES OF EVOLUTION 359
had been written ; and he had considered the Sacraments of
baptism, confirmation, and the eucharist ; he was occupied
with poenitentia ; and still other sacraments remained, as
well as his final treatment of the matters which lie beyond
the grave. So he left his work unfinished, and, in spite of
many efforts, unfinishable by any of his pupils or successors.^
II
Inasmuch as the matter of their thoughts was trans-
mitted to the men of the Middle Ages, and was not drawn
from their own observation or constructive reasoning, the
fundamental intellectual endeavour for mediaeval men was
to apprehend and make their own, and re-express. Their
intellectual progress followed this process of appropriation,
and falls into three stages — learning, organically appro-
priating, and re-expressing with added elements of thought.
Logically, and generally in time, these three stages were
successive. Yet, of course, they overlapped, and may be
observed progressing simultaneously. Thus, for example,
what was known of Aristotle at the beginning of the twelfth
century was slight compared with the knowledge of his
philosophy that was opened to western Europe in the latter
part of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth.
And while, by the middle of the twelfth century, the elements
of Aristotle's logic had been thoroughly appropriated, the
substantial Aristotelian philosophy had still to be learned and
mastered, before it could be reformulated and re-expressed
as part of mediaeval thought.
Looking solely to the outer form, the three stages of
mediaeval thought are exemplified in the Scriptural Com-
mentary of the later Carolingian time, in the twelfth-century
Books of Sentences, and at last in the more organic Summa
theologiae. With this significant evolution and change of
outer form, proceeded the more substantial evolution
^ The order which Thomas would have followed in the unfinished conclusion
of his Summa theologiae, may be inferred from the order of the last half of Book IV.
of his Contra Gentiles, or indeed from the last part of the fourth Book of the
Lombard's Sentences.
36o THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvii
consisting in learning, appropriating, and re-expressing the
inherited material. In both cases, these three stages were
necessitated by the greatness of the transmitted matter ; for
the intellectual energies of the mediaeval period were fully
occupied with mastering the data proffered so pressingly,
with presenting and re-presenting this superabundant
material, and recasting it in new forms of statement, which
were also expressions, or realizations, of the mediaeval
genius. So the mediaeval product may be regarded as
given by the past, and by the same token necessitated
and controlled. But, on the other hand, each stage of
intellectual progress rendered possible the next one.
The first stage of learning is represented by the
Carolingian period, which we have considered. It was then
that the patristic material was extracted from the writings
of the Fathers, and rearranged and reapplied, to meet the
needs of the time. The mastery of this material had
scarcely made such vital progress as to enable the men of
the ninth and tenth and eleventh centuries to re-express it
largely in terms of their own thinking. In the ninth century,
Eriugena affords an extraordinary exception with his drastic
restatement of what he had drawn from Pseudo-Dionysius
and others ; and at the end comes Anselm, whose genius
is metaphysically constructive. But Anselm touches the
coming time ; and the springs of Eriugena's genius are
hidden from us.
As for the antique thought during these Carolingian
centuries, Eriugena dealt in his masterful way with what he
knew of it through patristic and semi-patristic channels.
But let us rather seek it in the curriculum of the Trivium
and Quadrivium. What progress Gerbert made in the
Quadrivium, that is, in the various branches of mathematics
which he taught, has been noted, and to what extent his
example was followed by his pupil Fulbert, at the cathedral
school of Chartres.^ The courses of the Trivium — grammar,
rhetoric, logic — demand our closer attention ; for they were
the key of the situation. We must keep in mind that we
are approaching mediaeval thought from the side of the
innate human need of intellectual expression — the impulse
1 Ante, Chapter XII., iii.
CHAP. XXXVI STAGES OF EVOLUTION 361
to know and the need to formulate one's conceptions and
express them consistently. For mediaeval men the first
indispensable means to this end was grammar, including
rhetoric, and the next was logic or dialectic. The Latin
language contained the sum of knowledge transmitted to
the Middle Ages. And it had to be learned. This was
true even in Italy and Spain and France, where each year the
current ways of Romance speech were departing more
definitely from the parent stock ; it was more patently true
in the countries of Teutonic speech. Centuries before, the
Roman youth had studied grammar that they might speak
and write correctly. Now it was necessary to study Latin
grammar, to wit, the true forms and literary usages of the
Latin tongue, in order to acquire any branch of knowledge
whatsoever, and express one's corresponding thoughts.
And men would not at first distinguish sharply between the
mediating value of the learned tongue and the learning which
it held.i
Thus grammar, the study of the Latin language, repre-
sented the first stage of knowledge for mediaeval men. This
was to remain true through all the mediaeval centuries ;
since all youths who became scholars had to learn the
language before they could study what was contained in it
alone. One may also say, and yet not speak fantastically,
that grammar, the study of the correct use of the language
itself, corresponded spiritually with the main intellectual
labour of the Carolingian period. Alcuin's attention is
commonly fixed upon the significance of language, Latin of
course. And the labours of his pupil Rabanus, and the
^ There were, of coiorse, attempts at translation, notably those of Notker the
German (see ante, Vol. I., p. 309) and Alfred's translation of Boethius's De con-
solatione. But such were made only of the popular parts of Scripture {e.g.
the Psalms) or of very elementary profane treatises. To what extent Notker's
translations were used, is hard to say. But at all events any one really seeking
learning, studied and worked and thought in the medium of Latin ; for the bulk
of the patristic writings never were translated ; and when the works of Aristotle
had at last reached the Middle Ages in the Latin tongue, they were studied in
that tongue. Because of the crudeness of the vernacular tongues, the Latin
classics were even more untranslatable in the tenth or eleventh century than now.
One may add, that it was fortunate for the progress of mediaeval learning
that Latin was the one language used by all scholars in all countries. This facili-
tated the diffusion of knowledge. How slow and painful would have been that
diffusion if the different vernacular tongues had been used in their respective
countries for serious writing.
362 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvii
latter's pupil Walaf rid, are, as it were, devoted to the grammar
of learning. That is to say, they read and endeavour to
understand the works of the Fathers ; they compare and
collate, and make volumes of extracts, which they arrange
for the most part as Scripture commentaries ; commentaries,
that is, upon the significance of the canonical writings which
were the substance of all wisdom, but needed much explica-
tion. Such works were the very grammar of knowledge,
being devoted to the exposition of the meaning of the
Scriptures and the vast burden of patristic thought. A
like purpose was evinced in the efforts of the great emperor
himself to re-establish schools of grammar, in order that
the Scriptures might be more correctly understood, and
the expositions of the holy Fathers. In fine, just as know-
ledge of the Latin tongue was the end and aim of grammar,
so a correct understanding of what was contained in Latin
books was the aim of the intellectual labours of this period.
It all represented the first stage in the mediaeval acquisition
of knowledge, or in the presentation or expression of the
same ; and thus the first stage in the mediaeval endeavour
to realize the human impulse to know.
The next course of the Trivium was logic ; and likewise
its study will represent truly the second stage in the
mediaeval realization of the human impulse to know, to wit,
the second stage in the appropriation and expression of the
knowledge transmitted from the past. We have spoken at
some length of the logical studies of Gerbert, and his
endeavours to adjust his thinking and classify the branches
of knowledge by means of formal logic.^ Those discussions
of his which seem somewhat puerile to us, were essential
to his endeavours to formulate what he had learned, and
present it as rational and ordered knowledge. Logic is
properly the stage succeeding grammar in the formulation of
rational knowledge. At least it was for men of Gerbert's
time, and the following centuries. Rightly enough they
looked on logic as a scientia sermotionalis, which on one side
touched sheer linguistics, and on the other, had for its field
the further processes of reason. Thus Hugo of St. Victor,
Abaelard's very great contemporary, says :
1 Ante, Chapter XII., J.
CHAP. XXXVI STAGES OF EVOLUTION 363
" Logic is named from the Greek word logos, which has a two-
fold interpretation. For logos means either sermo or ratio ; and
therefore logic may be termed either a scientia sermotionalis or
a scientia rationalis. Logica rationalis embraces dialectic and
rhetoric, and is called discretiva (argumentative and exercising
judgment) ; logica sermotionalis is the genus which includes
grammar, dialectic and rhetoric, to wit, discursive science {dis-
ertiva)." ^
The close connection between grammar and logic is
evident. Logic treats of language used in rational expres-
sion, as well as of the reasoning processes carried on in
language. Its elementary chapters teach a rational use of
language, whereby men may reach a more deeply consistent
expression of their thoughts than is gained from grammar.
Yet grammar also is logic, and based on logical principles.
All this is exemplified in the logical treatises composing the
Aristotelian Organon, which the Middle Ages used. First
comes Porphyry's Isagoge, which clearly is bound up in
language. Likewise Aristotle's Categories treat of the rational
and consistent use of language, or of what may be stated in
language. Next it is obvious that the De interpretatione
treats of language used to express thought, its generic
function. The more advanced treatises of the Organon, the
Prior and Posterior Analytics, the Topics, and Sophistical
Elenchi, treat directly and elaborately of the reasoning
processes themselves. So one perceives the grammatical
affinities of the simpler treatises in the Organon. The more
advanced ones seem to stand to them as oratorical rhetoric
stands to elementary grammar. For the Analytics, Topics,
and Sophistical Elenchi are a kind of eristic, training the
student to use the processes of thought and their expression
in order to attain an end, commonly argumentative. The
prior treatises have taught the elements, as it were the
orthography and etymology of the rational expression of
thought in language ; the latter (even as syntax and rhetoric) ,
train the student in the use of these elements. And one
observes a nice historical fitness in the fact that only the
simpler treatises of the Organon were in common use in the
early Middle Ages, since they alone were necessary to the
^ Eruditio didascalica, i. cap. 12 (Migne, Pat. Lot. 176, col. 750).
364 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
first stage in the appropriation of the substance of patristic
and antique thought. The full Organon was rediscovered,
and retaken into use in the middle or latter part of the
twelfth century, when men had progressed to a more organic
appropriation of the patristic material and what they knew
of the antique philosophy.^
Thus in mediaeval education, and in the successive order
of appropriating the patristic and the antique, logic stood on
grammar's shoulders. It was grammar's rationalized stage,
and treated language as the means of expressing thought
consistently and validly ; that is, so as not to contravene the
necessities of that whereof it was the vehicle. And since
language thus treated was in accord with rational thought, it
would accord with the realities to which thought corresponds,
and might be taken as expressing them. This last reflection
introduces metaphysics.
And properly. For the three stages in the mediaeval
appropriation and expression of knowledge were grammar,
logic, metaphysics. Logic has to do with the processes of
thought ; with the positing of premises and the drawing of
the conclusion. It does not necessarily consider whether
the contents of its premises represent realities. This is
matter for ontology, metaphysics. Now mediaeval meta-
physics, which were those of Greek philosophy, were
extremely pre-Kantian, in assuming a correspondence
between the necessities or conclusions of thought and the
supreme realities, God and the Universe. Nor did mediaeval
logic doubt that its processes could elucidate and express the
veritable natures of things. So mediaeval logic readily
wandered into the province of metaphysics, and ignored the
line between the two.
Yet there is little metaphysics in the Organon ; none in
its simpler treatises. So there was none in the elementary
logical instruction of the schools before the twelfth century
at least. ^ One may always distinguish between logic and
^ Cf. Mandonnet, Siger de Brabant, etc., p. 6 (2nd ed., Louvain, 1911).
Grabmann, o.c, ii. p. 68 sqq., says that Otto of Freising (d. 1158) was the
first to show a thorough knowledge of the entire Organon. See also Hofmeister,
" Studien iiber Otto von Freising," Neues Archiv filr deutsche GeschicMskunde,
Bd. xxxvii., p. 99 sqq., and p. 635 sqq. (Hannover, 191 1, 1912).
- Cf. Abelson, The Seven Liberal Arts (New York, 1906).
CHAP. XXXVI STAGES OF EVOLUTION 365
metaphysics ; and it is to our purpose to do so here. For
as we have taken logic to represent the second stage in
the mediaeval appropriation of knowledge, so metaphysics,
poised in turn on logic's shoulders, is very representative of
the third stage, to wit, the stage of systematic and organic
re-expression of the ancient matter, with elements added by
the great schoolmen.
Metaphysics was very properly the final stage. The
grammatical represented an elementary learning of what the
past had transmitted ; the logical a further retrying of the
matter, an attempt to understand and express it, formulate
parts of it anew with deeper consistency of expression.
Then follows the attempt for final and universal consistency :
final, inasmuch as thought penetrates to the nature of things
and expresses realities and the relationships of realities ; and
universal, in that it seeks to order and systematize all its
concepts, and bring them to unity in a Summa — a perfected
scheme of rational presentation of God and His creation.
This will be, largely speaking, the final endeavour of the
mediaeval man to ease his mind, and realize his impulse to
know and express himself with uttermost consistency.
So for mediaeval men, metaphysics stood on logic's
shoulders and represented the final completion of their
thought, in a universal system and scheme of God and man
and things.^ But the first part of this proposition had not
been true with Greek philosophy. Metaphysics is properly
occupied with being, in its ultimate essence and relation-
ships ; with the consistent putting together of things, to wit,
the presentation or expression of them so as not to disagree
with any of the data recognized as pertinent. The thinker
considers profoundly, seeking to penetrate the ultimate
reality and relationships of things, through which a universal
whole is constituted. This makes ontology, metaphysics —
the science of being, of causes, and so the science of the first
Cause, God. Aristotle called this the " first " philosophy,
because lying at the base of all branches of knowledge, and
^ I am speaking generally, that is to say, omitting for the present the aberrant
or special or intrusive tendencies found in a man like Roger Bacon, for example.
They were of importance for what was to come thereafter ; but are not broadly
representative of the Middle Ages.
366 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
depending on nothing beyond itself. Some time after his
death, the Peripatetics and then the Neo-Platonists called
this first science by the name of Metaphysics, " after " or
" beyond " physics, if one will, perhaps because of the actual
order of treatment in the schools.
The term Metaphysics is vague enough ; either " first "
philosophy or " ontology " is preferable. Yet as to Greek
philosophy the term has apt historical suggestiveness. For
it did come after physics in time, and was in fact evoked
by the imperfect method and consequent contradictions
of the earlier philosophies. From the beginning, Greek
philosophy drove straight at the cause or origin of things —
surely the central problem of metaphysics. Thales and the
other lonians began with rational, though crude, hypotheses
as to the sources of the universe. These were first attempts
to reach a consistent expression of its origin and nature.
Each succeeding philosopher considered further, from the
vantage-ground of the recognized inconsistencies or inade-
quacies in the theories of his predecessors. He was thus
led on to consider more profoundly the essential relationships
of things, the very truth of their relationships, and on and
on into the problem of their being. For the verity of rela-
tions must be according to the verity of being of the things
related. The world about us consists in relationships, of
antecedents and sequences, of cause and effect ; and our
thought of it is made up of consistencies or contradictions,
which last we struggle to eliminate, or to transform to
consistencies.
These early philosophers looked only to the Aristotelian
material cause for the origin and cause of things ; yet
reflection plunged them deeper into a consideration of the
nature of being and relationships. The other causes were
evoked by Anaxagoras and then by Plato, and by them
were led into the arena of debate ; and philosophers dis-
cussed the efficient and final cause as well as the material.
Such discussions are recognized by Plato, and finally by
Aristotle as relating to the first principles of cognition and
being, and so as constituting metaphysics. The constant
search for a deeper consistency of explanation had led on
and on through a manifold consideration of those palpable
CHAP. XXXVI STAGES OF EVOLUTION 367
relationships which make up the visible world ; it had dis-
closed the series of necessary assumptions required by those
visible relationships ; and thus the search for causality and
origins, and essential relationships, became one and the
s ame — metaphysics .
Metaphysics was not ineptly called so, since it had in
time come after the cruder physical hypotheses. But such
was not the order of mediaeval intellectual progress. The
Middle Ages passed through no preliminary course of
physical hypotheses, explanatory of the universe. Not
physics, but logic (introduced by grammar) led up to the
final construction — or rather adoption and reconstruction —
of ultimate hypotheses as to God and man, led up to the all-
ordering and all-compassing Theologia. Metalogics, rather
than Metaphysics, would be the proper name for these final
expressions or actualizations of the mediaeval impulse to
know.
CHAPTER XXXVII
TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICISM
I. The Problem of Universals : Abaelard.
II. The Mystic Strain: Hugo and Bernard,
III. The Later Decades: Bernard Silvestris ; Gilbert de
LA Porree ; William of Conches ; John of Salisbury,
and Alanus of Lille.
From the somewhat elaborate general considerations which
have occupied the last two chapters, we turn to the repre-
sentative manifestations of mediaeval thought in the
twelfth century. These belong in part to the second or
" logical," and in part to the third or " meta-logical," stage
of the mediaeval mind. The first or " grammatical " stage
was represented by the Carolingian period ; and in reviewing
the mental aspects of the eleventh century, we entered upon
the second stage, that of logic, or dialectic, to use the more
specific mediaeval term. Toward the close of the tenth
century, Gerbert was found strenuously occupying himself
with logic, and using it as a means of ordering the branches
of knowledge. At the end of the eleventh, Anselm has not
only considered certain logical problems, but has vaulted
over into constructive metaphysical theology. Looking
back over Anselm's work, from the vantage-ground of the
twelfth century's further reflections, one may be conscious
of a certain genial youthfulness in his reliance upon single
arguments, noble and beautiful soarings of the spirit, which
however pay little regard to the firmness of the premises
from which they spring, and still less to a number of cognate
368
CH. xxxvii TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 369
and pertinent considerations, which the twelfth century was
to analyze.
Anselm's thought perhaps overleaped logic. At all
events he appears only occasionally absorbed with its formal
problems. Yet he lived in a time of dawning logical con-
troversy. Roscellin was even then blowing up the problem
of universals, a problem occasioned by the entering of
mediaeval thought upon the " logical " stage of its appropria-
tion of the patristic and antique.
The problem of universals, or general ideas, from the
standpoint of logic, lies at the basis of consistent thinking.
It reverts to the time when Aristotle's assertion of the pre-
eminently real existence of individuals broke away from
the Platonic doctrine of Ideas. For the early mediaeval
philosophers, it took its rise in a famous passage in
Porphyry's Introduction to the Categories, the concluding
sentence of which, as translated into Latin by Boethius, puts
the question thus : " Mox de generibus et speciebus illud
quidem sive subsistant sive in nudis intellectibus posita
sint, sive subsistentia corporalia sint an incorporalia, et
utrum separata a sensibilibus an in sensibilibus posita et
circa haec consistentia, dicere recusabo." " Next as to genera
and species, do they actually exist or are they merely in
thought ; are they corporeal or incorporeal existences ; are
they separate from sensible things or only in and of them ?
— I refuse to answer," says Porphyry ; " it is a very lofty
business, unsuited to an elementary work."
Thus, in three pairs of crude alternatives, the question
came over to the early Middle Ages. The men of the
Carolingian period took one position or another, without
sensing its difficulties, or observing how it lay athwart the
path of knowledge. Students were not as yet attempting
such a dynamic appropriation of the ancient material as
would evoke this veritable problem of cognition. Even
Gerbert at the close of the tenth century was still so busy
with the outer forms and figments of logic that he had
no time to enter on those ulterior problems where logic
links itself to metaphysics. One Roscellin, living and
teaching apparently at Besangon in the latter part of the
eleventh century, seems to have been the first to attack the
VOL. II 2 B
370 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
currently accepted " realism " with, some sense of the
matter's thorny intricacies. With his own " nominalistic "
position we are acquainted only through his adversaries, who
imputed to him views which a thoughtful person could
hardly havq entertained — that universals were merely words
and breath {flatus vocis). Roscellin seems at all events to
have been a man strongly held by the reality of individuals,
and one who found it difficult to ascribe a sufficient in-
tellectual actuality to the general idea as distinguished
from the perception of things and the demands of the
concepts of their individual existences. His logical diffi-
culties impelled him to theological heresy. The unity in
the Trinity became an impossibility ; he could only con-
ceive of three beings, just as he might think of three angels ;
and he would have spoken of three Gods had usage not
forbidden it, says St. Anselm.^ As it was, he said enough
to draw on him the condemnation of a Council held at
Soissons in 1092, before which he quailed and recanted.
For the remainder of his life he so constrained the expression
of his thoughts as to ensure his safety.
One may say that Plato's theory of ideas was a meta-
physical presentation of the universe, sounding in conceptions
of reality. But for the Middle Ages, the problem whether
genera and species exist when abstracted from their par-
ticulars, sprang from logical controversy. It was a problem
of cognition, cognizance, understanding ; how should one
understand and analyze the contents of a statement, e.g.
Socrates is a man. Moreover, it was a fundamental and
universal problem of cognition ; for it was not merely
occupied, like all mental processes, with bringing data to
consistent formulation, but pertained to those processes them-
selves by which any and all data are stated or formulated.
It touched every formulation of truth, asking, in fine, how
are we to think our statements ? The philosophers of the
^ St. Anselm, Epist. lib. iii. 41, ad Fulconem (Migne, Pat. Lat. 158, col. 1192).
So Roscellin showed in his own case how problems primarily logical could pass
over to metaphysics or theology. Likewise, although on the other side of the
controversy, one, Odo of Toiurnai, a good contemporary realist, found realism
an efficient aid in explaining the transmission of original sin ; since for him all
men formed but one substance, which was infected once for all by the sin of the
first parents. Cf. Haureau, Hist, de la philosophie scholastique, i. pp. 297-308 ;
Du Wulf, Hist, of Medieval Philosophy, p. 156, 3rd ed.
CH. xxxvn TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 371
eleventh and twelfth centuries, however, did not view this
problem as one pertaining to the mind's processes, and as
having to do solely with the understanding of the contents
of a statement. Rather, even as Plato had done, they
approached it as if it were a problem of modes li existence ;
and for this very reason it had pushed Roscellin into
theological error.
The discussion was to pass through various stages ; and
each stage may seem to us to represent the point reached
by the thinker in his analysis of his conscious meaning
in stating a proposition. Moreover, each solution may be
valid for him who gives it, because of its correspondence to
the meaning of his utterances so far as he has analyzed
them. But mediaeval men could not take it in this way.
Their intellectual task lay in appropriating, and in their own
way re-expressing, all that had come to them from an
authoritative past. The problem of universals had been
stated by a great authority, who put it as pertaining to the
objective reality of genera and species. How then might
mediaeval men take it otherwise, especially when at all
events it pertained in all verity to their endeavour to grasp
and re-express the contents of transmitted truth ? It
became for a while the crucial problem, the answer to which
might indicate the thinker's general intellectual attitude.
Far from keeping to logic, to the organon or instrumental
part of the mediaeval endeavour to know, it wound itself
through metaphysics and theology. Obviously the thinker's
answer to the problem would bear relation to his thoughts
upon the transcendent reality of spiritual essences.
The men who first became impressed with the importance
of this problem, gave extreme answers to it, sometimes
crassly denying the real existence of universals, but more
often hailing them as antecedent and all-permeating realities.
If Roscellinus took the former position, a pupil of his,
William of Champeaux, held the extreme opposite view,
when both he and the twelfth century were still young.
One may, however, bear in mind that as the views of the
older nominalist are reported only by his enemies, so our
knowledge of William's lucubrations comes mainly from the
exacerbated pen of Peter Abaelard.
372 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
William held apparently " that the same thing, in its
totality and at the same time, existed in its single individuals,
among which there was no essential difference, but merely
a variety of accidents." ^ Abaelard appears to have per-
formed a reductio ad absurdum upon this view that the total
genus exists in each individual. He pointed out that in such
case the total genus homo would at the same time exist in
Socrates and also in Plato, when one of them might be in
Rome and the other in Athens. " At this William changed
his opinion," continues Abaelard, " and taught that the genus
existed in each individual not essentialiter but indifferenter
or [as some texts read] individualiter ." Which seems to
mean that William no longer held that the total genus
existed in each individual actually, but " indistinguishably,"
or " individually."
And the students flocked away with Abaelard, he also
says ; and William fled the lecture chair. William and
Peter ; shall we say of them arcades ambo ? This would be
but a harmless depreciation of Abaelard, in the face of the
universal and correct tradition as to his epoch-making
intellectual progressiveness. Indeed it might be well to let
the phrase sound in our ears, just for the reminder's sake,
that Abaelard was, like William, a man of logic, although far
more expert both in manipulating the dialectic processes
and in applying them to theology.
Before endeavouring briefly to reconstruct the intellectual
qualities of Abaelard from his writings, let us see how the
famous open letter to a friend, in giving an apologetic story
of the writer's life, discloses the fatalities of his character.
This Historia calamitatum suarum makes it plain enough
why the crises of his life were all of them catastrophes — even
leaving out of view his liaison with Heloise and its penalty.
A fatal impulse to annoy seems to drive him from fate to
fate ; the old word of Heraclitus •^^09 avOpmirm haifimv
(character is a man's genius) was so patently true of him.
Much that he said was to receive orthodox approval after
his time. Quite true. But if, as often remarked, the heresy
of one age becomes the accepted doctrine of the next, one
still may doubt whether the heretic would have been persona
^ Abaelard, Hist, calamitatum, chap. 2.
en.
XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 373
prata to the later time. Abaelard at all events would have
Jed others and himself a life of thorns in the thirteenth
century or the fourteenth, had he been born again when
some of his methods and opinions had become accepted
commonplace. Did he have an eye for logical and human
truth more piercing than his twelfth-century fellows ?
Apparently. Was his need to speak out his truth so much
the more imperative than theirs ? Possibly. At all events,
jie was certainly possessed with an inordinate impulsion to
undo his rivals. He sits down before their fortress walls by
night, and when they see him there, they know not whether
they look on friend or foe — in this auditor. They will find
out soon enough. He studied dialectic under William of
Champeaux at Paris, as all men were to know. He got what
Willia-m had to teach, and moved on, to lecture in Melun and
elsewhere. Then he returned and sat at William's feet
awhile to learn rhetoric, as he announced. But quickly he
rose up, and assailed his master's doctrine of universals, and
overthrew him, as we have seen. The victim's friends made
Abaelard's eristically-won lecturer's seat a prickly one. He
left Paris for a while, and then returned and taught on
Mount St. Genevieve, outside the city.
Up to this time he had not been known to study
theology. But in 1113, at the age of thirty-four, he went
to Laon to listen to a famous theologian named Anselm,
who himself had studied at Bee under a greater Anselm.
Says Abaelard in his Historia calamitatum : " So I came to
this old man, whose repute was a tradition, rather than
merited by talent or learning. Any one who brought his
uncertainties to him went away more uncertain still ! He
was a marvel in the eyes of his hearers, but a nobody before
a questioner. He had a wonderful wordflow, but the sense
was contemptible and the reasoning abject." Well, I didn't
listen to him long, Abaelard intimates ; but began to absent
myself from his lectures, and was brought to task by his
auditors, to whom jokingly I said, I, too, could lecture on
Scripture ; and I was taken up. Nothing loath, the next
day I lectured to them on the passage they had chosen from
Ezekiel's obscure prophecies. So, all unprepared, and
trusting in my genius, I began to lecture, at first to sparse
374 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND book
vn
audiences, but they quickly grew. Such is the substance of
Abaelard's own account, and he goes on to tell how " the old
man aforesaid was violently moved with envy," and shortlv
Abaelard had to take his lecturings elsewhere. He returned
to Paris, and we have the episode of Heloise, for whom, as
his life went on, he evinced a devoted affection.^
Now he is monk in the abbey of St. Denis ; and there
again he lectures, and takes up certain themes against
Roscellinus, whom he seems to resurrect from the quiet of
old age to make a target of. This old man, too, hits back
and other vicious people blow up a cloud of envy, until the
gifted lecturer finds himself an accused before the Council
of Soissons, and his book condemned. Untaught by the
burning of his book, Abaelard returns to his convent, and
proceeds to unearth statements of the Venerable Bede show-
ing that Dionysius the Areopagite who heard Paul preach,
was not the St. Denis who became patron saint of France,
and founder of the great abbey which even now was
sheltering a certain Abaelard, and drawing power and
revenue from the fame of its reputed almost apostolic
founder. Its abbot and monks did not care to have the
abbey walls undermined by truth, and Abaelard was hunted
forth from among them.
It was after this that he made for himself a lonely
refuge, which he named the Paraclete, not far from Troyes,
and thither again his pupils followed him in swarms, and
built their huts around him in the wilderness. But still
mightier foes — or their phantoms — ^rise against this hunted
head. The Historia seems to allude to St. Norbert and to
St. Bernard, Whatever the storm was, it was escaped by
flight to a remote Breton convent which — still for his sins ! —
had chosen Abaelard its abbot. There in due course they
tried to murder him, and again he fled, this time back to his
congenial sphere, the schools of Paris, where he lectured,
now at the summit of fame, to enthusiastic multitudes of
students. Some years pass, and then the pious jackal,
William of St. Thierry, rouses his lion Bernard to contend
with Abaelard and crush him, not with dialectic, at the
Council of Sens in 1141. In a year he died, a broken man,
1 Ante, Chapter XXVI.
en.
XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 375
in Cluny's shelter. The conflict had not been of his seeking,
perhaps, had he been less vain, he might have avoided it.
y^en it was upon him, the unhappy athlete of the schools
found himself a pigmy matched against the giant of
Clairvaux — the Thor and Loki of the Church ! Whether or
jiot the unequal battle raises Abaelard in our esteem, its
outcome commends him to our pity ; and all our sympathy
stays with him to the last days of a life that was, as if
physically, crushed. This accumulation of sad fortune bears
vntness enough to the character of the man on whose neck
it did not fall by accident. Now let us try to reconstruct
liim intellectually.
We have heretofore observed the genius and noted the
somewhat swaddling dialectic categories of a certain eager
intellect bearing the iname of Gerbert.^ Abaelard's mental
processes have advanced beyond such logical stammerings.
He and his time are in the fulness of youth, and feel the
strength and joyful assurance of an intellectual progress, to
be brought about by a new-found proficiency in dialectic.
In the first half of the twelfth century, the intellectual genius
of the time — and Abaelard was its quintessence — knew
itself advancing by this means in truth. A like intellectual
consciousness had rejoiced the disputants in Plato's academy,
under the inspiration of that beautiful reasoner's exquisite
dialectic. The one time, like the other, was justified in
its confidence. For in such epochs, language, reasoning,
and knowledge advance with equal step ; thought clears up
with linguistic and logical analysis ; it becomes clear and
illuminated because more distinctly conscious of the char-
acter of its processes, and the nature of statement. There
is thus a veritable progress, at least in the methodology
of truth.
In Abaelard's time men had already studied grammar,
the grammar of the Latin tongue, and the quasi-grammar of
rearrangement and first painful learning of the knowledge
which it held. They had studied logic too, its simpler
elements, those which consist mainly in a further clearing
up of the meanings of language. Some men — Anselm of
Canterbury — had already made sudden flights beyond
1 Ante, Chapter XII., i.
376 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
grammar, and out of logic's pale. And the labour of logical
and organic appropriation, with some reconstruction of the
ancient material, was to go on in this first half of the twelfth
century, when Hugo of St, Victor lived as well as Abaelard
Progress by means of dialectic controversy, and first attempts
at systematic construction, mark this period intellectuaUv
Abaelard lived and moved and had his being in dialectic
The further interest of Theology was lent him by the spirit ^
of his time. Through the medium of the one he reasoned
analytically ; and in the province of the other he applied his
reasoning constructively, using patristic materials and the
fragments of Greek philosophy scattered through them
Thus Abaelard, a true man of the twelfth century, passes
on through logic to theology or metaphysics.
For the completeness of his logical knowledge he lived
and worked twenty or thirty years too soon. He was
unacquainted with the more elaborate logical treatises of
Aristotle, to wit, the Prior and Posterior Analytics, the
Topics, and Sophistical Elenchi. The sources of his
own treatises upon Dialectic are Porphyry's Introduction,
Aristotle's Categories and De Interpretatione, and certain
treatises of Boethius.^ A first result of the elementary and
quasi-grammatical character of the sources of logic upon
which he drew, is that the connection between logic and
grammar is very plain with him. Note, for example, this
paragraph of his, the substance of which is drawn from
Aristotle's Categories :
" But neither can substances be compared,^ since comparison
relates to attribute, and not to substance ; so it is shown that
comparison lies not as to nouns, but as to their attributes. Thus
we say whiter but not whiteiiesser. Much more are substances
which have no attribute [adjacentiam) immune from comparison.
More or less cannot be predicated of nouns [nomina suhstantiva).
For one cannot say more man or less man, as more or less white." ^
^ Abaelard's Dialectica was published by Cousin, Ouvrages inedits d'Abelard
(Paris, 1836). For a thorough exposition of Abaelard's logic see Prantl, Ges.
der Logik, ii. p. 160 sgq.
^ I.e. as positive, comparative, and superlative.
^ Cousin, Ouvr. inedits, p. 175. Cf. Aristotle's Categories, ii. v. 20. The
opening of Pars tertia of Abaelard's Dialectica (in Cousin's edition, p. 324 sqq.)
affords an interesting example of this logical analysis and reconstruction of state-
ment, which seems to originate in sheer grammar, and then advance beyond it.
cH.xxxvii TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 377
Evidently this elementary sort of logic, whether with
Aristotle or Abaelard, represents a clearing up of the mind
on current modes of expression. And sometimes from such
studies men make discoveries like that of Moliere's Bourgeois
Gentilhomme, who discovered that he had always been
talking prose. Some of the points on which the minds of
Abaelard's contemporaries required clarification, would be
foolish word-play to ourselves, as, for instance, whether the
significance of the sentence homo est animal is contained in
the subject, copula, or predicate, or only in all three ; and
whether when a word is spoken, the very same word and
the whole of it comes to the ears of all the hearers at the
same time : " utrum ipsa vox ad aures diversorum simul
et tota aequaliter veniat." ^ Such questions, as WcLS observed
regarding the problems of logical arrangement in Gerbert's
mind, may be pertinent and reasonable enough, if viewed in
connection with the intellectual conditions of a period ; just
as other questions now make demand on us for solution,
being links in the chain of our knowledge, or manner of
reasoning. But future men may pass them by as not lying in
their path to progressive knowledge of the universe and man.
So the problem of universals was still cardinal with
Abaelard and his fellow-logicians, who through logic were
advancing, as they believed, along the path of objective
truth. Its solution would determine the nature of the
categories into which logic was fitting whatever might be
enunciated or expressed. The inquiry represented an
ultimate analysis of statement, — of the general nature of
propositions ; and also related to their assumed corre-
spondence with realities. What William of Champeaux had
unqualifiedly alleged, Abaelard tried to determine more
analytically, to wit, the value of the proposition " si aliquid
sit ea res quae est species, id est vel homo vel equus et
caetera, sit quaelibet res quae eorum genus est, veluti animal
aut corpus aut substantia," — if species be something, as man,
horse, and so forth, then that which is the genus of these
may be something, as animal, body, or substance.^
Abaelard's discussion of this matter is a discussion of
the true content of propositions. His conclusion is not so
^ Cousin, o.c. pp. 190, 192. ^ Ibid. p. 331.
378 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
clear as to have occasioned no dispute. One must not think
of him as an AristoteHan — for he knew Httle of the sub-
stantial philosophy of Aristotle. Our dialectician had
absorbed more of Plato, through turbid patristic channels
and the current translation of the Timaeus. So his solution
of the question of genus and species may prove an analytic
bit of eclecticism, an imagined reconcilement of the two
great masters. The universal or general is, says he, " quod
natum est de pluribus praedicari," that which is by its nature
adapted to be predicated of a number of things. The
universal consists neither in things as such nor in words as
such ; it consists rather in general predicability ; it is sermo,
sermo praedicabilis, that which may be stated, as a predicate,
of many. As such it is not a mere word : sermo is not
merely vox ; that is not the true general predicable. On the
other liand, one thing cannot be the predicate of another ;
res de re non praedicatur : therefore sermo is not res. Yet
Abaelard does not limit the existence of the universal to
the concept of him who thinks it. It surely exists in the
individuals, since substantia specierum is not different from
the essentia individuorum. But does not the general con-
cept exist as an objective unity ? Apparently Abaelard
would answer : Yes, it does thus exist as a common same-
ness {consimilitudo) .
All this is anything but clear. And the various twelfth-
century opinions on universals no longer possess human
interest. It is hard for us to distinguish between them, or
understand them clearly, or state them intelligibly. They
are bound up in a phraseology untranslatable into modern
language, because the discussion no longer corresponds to
modern ways of thought. But one is interested in the
human need which drove Abaelard and his fellows upon the
horns of this problem, and in the nature of their endeavours
to formulate their thought so as to escape those opposing
horns — of an extreme realism which might issue in pantheism,
and an extreme nominalism which seemed to deprive
predication of substance and validity.^
^ Prantl's Geschichte der Logik, vol. ii., contains an exhaustive discussion of
the various phases of this controversy : its language is little less difi&cult than
that of the twelfth-century word- twisters.
CH. XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 379
So much for Abaelard as sheer logician, formal adjuster
of the instrumental processes of thinking. Dialectic was for
him a first stage in the actualization of the impulse to know,
and bring knowledge to consistent expression. It was also
his way_j3f approach to the further systematic presentation
of his thoughts upon God and man, human society and
justice, divine and human.
" A new calumny against me, have my rivals lately devised,
because I write upon the dialectic art ; affirming that it is not
lawful for a Christian to treat of things which do not pertain to the
Faith. Not only they say that this science does not prepare us
for the Faith, but that it destroys faith by the implications of its
arguments. But it is wonderful if I must not discuss what is
permitted them to read. If they aUow that the art militates
against faith, surely they deem it not to be science {scientia).
For the science of truth is the comprehension of things, whose
species is the wisdom in which faith consists. Truth is not
opposed to truth. For not as falsehood may be opposed to
falsity, or evil to evil, can the true be opposed to the true, or the
good to the good ; but rather all good things are in accord.
All knowledge is good, even that which relates to evil, because
a righteous man must have it. Since he may guard against
evil, it is necessary that he should know it beforehand : otherwise
he could not shun it. Though an act be evil, knowledge regard-
ing it is good ; though it be evil to sin, it is good to know the sin,
which otherwise we could not shun. Nor is the science mathe-
matica to be deemed evil, whose practice (astrology) is evil.
Nor is it a crime to know with what services and immolations
the demons may be compelled to do our will, but to use such
knowledge. For if it were evil to know this, how could God be
absolved, who knows the desires and cogitations of all His
creatures, and how the concurrence of demons may be obtained ?
If therefore it is not wrong to know, but to do, the evil is to be
referred to the act and not to the knowledge. Hence we are
convinced that aU knowledge, which indeed comes from God
alone and from His bounty, is good. Wherefore the study of
every science should be conceded to be good, because that
which is good comes from it ; and especially one must insist
upon the study of that doctrina by which the greater truth
is known. This is dialectic, whose function is to distinguish
between every truth and falsity : as leader in aU knowledge, it
holds the primacy and rule of all philosophy. The same also
is shown to be needful to the CathoHc Faith, which cannot
without its aid resist the sophistries of schismatics." ^
^ Cousin, o.c. pp. 434, 435.
38o THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
In this passage the man himself is speaking, and dis-
closing his innermost convictions. For Abaelard's nature
was set upon understanding all things through reason, even
the mysteries of the Faith. He does not say, or quite think,
that he will disbelieve whatever he cannot understand ; but
his reasoning and temper point to the conclusion. This was
obviously true of Abaelard's ethical opinions ; his enemies
said it was true of his theology. Such a man would
naturally plead for freedom of discussion, even for freedom
of conclusion ; but within certain bounds ; for who in the
twelfth century could maintain that heretics or infidels did
rightly in rejecting the Christian Faith ? Yet Abaelard
says heretics should be compelled {coercendi) by reason
rather than force.^ And he could at least conceive of the
rejection of the Faith upon, say, imperfect rational grounds.
In his dialogue between Philosopher, Jew, and Christian, the
Christian says to the Philosopher : One cannot argue
against you from the authority of Scripture, which you do
not recognize ; for no one can be refuted save with arguments
drawn' from what he admits : Nemo quippe argui nisi ex
concessis potest.^ However this sounded in Abaelard's time,
the same was enunciated by Thomas Aquinas after him,
in a passage already given. ^ But it is doubtful whether
Thomas would have cared to follow Abaelard in some of
the arguments of his Ethics or Book called, Know Thyself, in
which he maintains that no act is a sin unless the actor was
conscious of its sinfulness ; and therefore that killing the
martjrrs could not be imputed as sin to those persecutors
who deemed themselves thereby to be doing a service
acceptable to God.*
The titles given by Abaelard to his various treatises are
indicative of the critical insistency of his nature. He gave
his Ethica the title of Scito te ipsum, Know Thyself : under-
stand thy good and ill intentions, and what may be vice or
virtue in thee. Through the book, the discussion of right and
wrong directs itself as pertinaciously to considerations of
^ Theologia Christiana, iv. (Migne 178, col. 1284).
2 Migne, Pat. Lat. 178, col. 1641.
* Ante, p. 322.
* Scito te ipsum, cap. 13 (Migne 178, col. 653).
CH. XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 381
human nature as was possible in an age when theological
dogma held the final criteria of human conduct. And
Abaelard is capable of a lofty insight touching the relation-
ship between God and man.
" Penitence," says he, " is truly fruitful when grief and
contrition proceed from love of God, regarded as benignant,
rather than from fear of penalties. Sin cannot endure with this
groaning and contrition of heart : for sin is contempt of God,
or consent to evil, and the love of God in inspiring our groaning,
suffers no ill." ^
Possibly when reading the Scito te ipsum oneis con-
scious of a dialectician drawing distinctions, rather than of
a moralist searching the heart of the matter. Everything
is set forth so reasonably. Yet Abaelard's impartial delight
in a rational view of belief and conduct shows nowhere
quite as obviously as in his Dialogue between Philosopher
and Jew and Christian. Each in turn is made to set forth
the best arguments his position admits of. The author does
his best for each, and perhaps seems temperamentally
drawn to the position of the Philosopher, whom he permits
to call the Jews stultos and the Christians insanos. This
philosopher naturally is no Greek of Plato's or Aristotle's
time, but a good Roman, who regards moralis philosophia as
the finis omnium disciplinarum, and hangs all intellectual
considerations upon a discussion of the summum bonum.
His well-worn arguments are put with earnestness. He
deprecates the blind acceptance of beliefs by children from
their fathers, and the narrowness of mind which keeps men
from perceiving the possible truth in others' opinions :
" so that whomsoever they see differing from themselves in
behef, they deem aHen from the mercy of God. Thus condemn-
ing all others, they vaunt themselves alone as blessed. Long
reflecting on this bUndness and pride of the human race, I have
unceasingly besought the Divine Pity that He would deign to
draw me forth from this miserable Charibdian whirlpool of error,
and guide me to a port of safety. So you [addressing both Jew
and Christian] behold me solicitous and attentive as a disciple,
to the documents of your arguments." ^
^ Scito te ipsum, cap. 19 (Migne 178, col. 664). ^ Migne 178, col. 1615.
382 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvii
The qualities cultivated by dialectic, and the impartial
rational temper, here displayed, reappear in the works of
Abaelard devoted to sacred doctrine. Enough has been
said of the method and somewhat captious qualities of the
Sic et non} Unquestionably its manner of presenting the
contradictory opinions of the Fathers, without any attempt
to reconcile them, tended to bring into view the difficulties
inhering in the formulation of Christian belief. And indeed
the book made prominent all the diabolic insoluble problems
of the Faith or rather of life itself and any view of God and
man : predestination, for example ; whether God causes
evil ; whether He is omnipotent ; whether He is free. The
Lombard's Sentences and Thomas's Summa considered all
these questions ; but they strove to solve them ; and
Thomas did solve every one, leaving no loose ends to his
theology. More potently than Abaelard did the Angelic
Doctor employ dialectic in his finished scheme. With him,
this propaedeutic discipline, this tool of truth, perfectly
performs its task of construction. So also Abaelard
intended to work with it ; but his somewhat unconsidered
use of the tool did not meet the approval of his con-
temporaries. Accordingly, in his more constructive theo-
logical treatises his impulse to know and state appears
finally actualized in-'lthe systematic formulation of convic-
tions upon topics of lultimate interest, to wit, theology, the
contents of the Christian Faith, the full relationship of God
and man. Did he sever theology from philosophy ? Nay,
rather, with him theology was ultimate philosophy.
Several times Abaelard rewrote what was substantially
the same general work upon Theology. In one of its
earliest forms it was burnt by the Council of Soissons
in 1121.^ In another form it exists under the title
Theologia Christiana ; ^ and the first part of its apparently
final revision is now improperly entitled, Introductio ad
theologiam.^
1 Ante, pp. 334 sqq.
^ This has been published by Stolzle : Abaelards 121 1 zu Soissons verurteilter
Tradatus de Unitate et Trinitate divina (1891).
^ Migne 178, col. 1123-1330; Cousin and Jourdain, P. Abaelardi opera, ii.
pp. 357-566 (1859).
* Ibid. col. 979-1114 ; Cousin and Jourdain, o.c. pp. 1-149.
CH. XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 383
The first Book of the Theologia Christiana is an exposition
of the Trinity, not dinched in syllogisms, but consisting
mainly of an orderly presentation of the patristic authorities
supporting the author's view of the matter. The testimonies
of profane writers are also given. Liber 11. opens by saying
that in the former part of the work " we have collected the
testimonia of prophets and philosophers, in support of the
faith of the Holy Trinity." Hereupon, by the same method
of adducing authorities, Abaelard proceeds to refute those
who had blamed him for citing the pagan philosophers.
He marshals his supporting excerpts from the Fathers, and
remarks : " That nothing is more needful for the defence of
our faith than that as against the importunities of all the
infidels we should have witness from themselves wherewith
to refute them." Then he points to the moral worth of
some of the philosophers, to their true teaching of the soul's
immortality, and quotes Horace's
" Oderunt peccare boni virtutis amore."
He continues at some length setting forth their well-
nigh evangelical virtue, and speaks of the Gospel as refor-
matio legis naturalis.
At the beginning of Liber III. comes the statement :
" We set the faith of the blessed Trinity as the foundation
of all good." Whereupon Abaelard breaks out in a de-
nunciation of those who misuse dialectic ; but again he
passes to a defence of the art as an art and branch of know-
ledge, and shows its need as a weapon against those wranglers
who will be quieted neither by the authority of the saints
nor the philosophers : against whom, he, Abaelard, trusting
in the divine aid, will turn this weapon as David did the
sword of Goliath. He now states the true object of his
work : " First then is to be set forth the theme of our whole
labour, and the sum of faith ; the unity of the divine
substance and the Trinity of persons, which are in God,
and are one God. Next we state the objections to our
theses, and then the solutions of those objections." And he
gives the substance of the Athanasian Creed. From this
point, his work becomes more dialectical and constructive,
although of course continuing to quote authorities. He is
384 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvii
emboldened to discuss the deepest mysteries, the very
penetraHa of the Trmity, and in a way which might well
alarm men like Bernard, who desired acceptance of the
Faith, with rhetoric, but without discussion. To be sure
Abaelard pauses to justify himself by reverting to his
apologetic purpose : " Heretics must be coerced with reason
rather than by force." However this may be, the work
henceforth shows the passing on of logic to the exercise
of its architectonic functions in constructing a systematic
theological metaphysics.
The miscalled Introductio ad theologiam, as might be
expected of a last revision of the author's Theology, is a
more organic work. In the Prologue, Abaelard speaks of
it as a Summa sacrae eruditionis or an Introductio to Divine
Scripture. And again he states the justifying purpose of
his labour, or rather puts it into the mouths of his disciples
who have asked for such a work from him : " Since our
faith, the Christian Faith, seems entangled in such difficult
questions, and to stand apart from human reason [et ah
humana ratione longius absistere), it should be fortified by
so much the stronger arguments, especially against the
attacks of those who call themselves philosophers." Con-
tinuing, Abaelard protests that if in any way, for his sins,
he should deviate from the Catholic understanding and
statement, he wall on seeing his error revise the same, like
the blessed Augustine.
The work itself opens with a statement of its intended
divisions : "In three matters, as I judge, rests the sum of
human salvation : Fides, caritas, and sacr amentum " ; and
he gives his definition of faith, which was so obnoxious to
Bernard and others, as the existimatio rerum non apparentium.
The three extant Books do not conclude the treatment even
of the first of these three topics. But one readily sees that
were the work complete, its arrangement might correspond
with that of Thomas's Summa} One may reiterate that it
was more constructively argumentative than the Theologia
Christiana, even in the manner of using the cited authorities.
For instance, Abaelard's mind is fixed on the analogy
between the Neo-Platonic Trinity of Deus, nous, and anima
1 Ante, Chapter XXXVI., i.
CH. XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 385
mundi, and that of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. The
nous fitly represents Christ, who is the Sapientia Dei — which
Abaelard sets forth ; but then with even greater insistency
he identifies the Holy Spirit with the world-soul. Nothing
gave a stronger warrant to the accusations of heresy brought
against him than this last doctrine, with which he was
obsessed. Yet what roused St. Bernard and his jackals
was not so much any particular opinion of Abaelard, as his
dialectic and critical spirit, which insisted upon under-
standing and explaining, before believing. " The faith
of the righteous believes ; it does not dispute. But that
man, suspicious of God {Deum hahens suspectum), has no
mind to believe what his reason has not previously
argued." ^
Still, when Bernard says that faith does not discuss, but
believes, he states a conviction of his mind, a conviction
corresponding with an inner need of his own to formulate
and express his thoughi;. With Abaelard the need to con-
sider and analyse was more consciously imperative. He
could not avoid the constant query : How shall I think
this thing — this thing, for example, which is declared by
revelation ? Just as other questioning spirits in other times
might be driven upon the query : How shall we think these
things which are disclosed by the variegated walls of our
physical environment ? Those yield data, or refuse them,
and force the mind to put many queries, and come to some
adjustment. So experience presents data for adjustment,
just as dogma and Scripture and revelation present that
which reason must bring within the action of its processes, and
endeavour to find rational expression for,
II
The greatest dialectician of the early twelfth century
felt no problems put him by the physical world. That did
not attract his inquiry ; it did not touch the reasonings
evolved by his self -consciousness, any more than it impressed
the fervid mind of his great adversary, St. Bernard. The
natural world, however, stirred the mind of Abaelard's con-
^ Bernard, Ep. 338 (Migne 182, col. 542).
VOL. II 2 C
386 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvii
temporary, Hugo of St. Victor.^ Its colours waved before
his reveries, and its visible sublimities drew his mind aloft
to the contemplation of God : for him its things were all the
things of God — opus conditionis or opus restaurationis ; ^ the
work of foundation, whereby God created the physical world
for the support and edification of its crowning creature man ;
and the work of restoration, to wit, the incarnation of the
Word, and all its sacraments.
Hugo was a Platonic and very Christian theologian.
He would reason and expound, and yet was well aware that
reason could not fathom the nature of God, or bring man
to salvation. " Logic, mathematics, physics teach some
truth, yet do not reach that truth wherein is the soul's safety,
without which whatever is is vain." ^ So Hugo was not
primarily a logician, like Abaelard ; nor did he care chiefly
for the kind of truth which might be had through logic.
Nevertheless the productions of his short life prove the ex-
cellence of his mind and his large enthusiasm for knowledge.
As Hugo was the head of the school of St. Victor for
some years before his death, certain of his works cover
topics of ordinary mediaeval education, secular and religious ;
while others advance to a more profound expression of the
intellectual, or spiritual, interests of their author. For
elementary religious instruction, he composed a veritable
book of Sentences,'^ which preceded the Lombard's in time,
but was later than Abaelard's Sic et non. Without striking
features, it lucidly and amiably carried out its general
purpose of setting forth the authoritative explanations of the
elements of the Christian Faith. The writer did not hesitate
to quote opposing views, which were not heralded, however,
by such danger-signals of contradiction as flare from the
chapter headings of the Sic et non.
The corresponding treatise upon profane learning — the
^ Whose sacramental theory of the Creation has abready been given at length,
ante. Chapter XXIX. For the incidents of Hugo's life see the same chapter.
Bibliography, note to page 87. See also Ostler, " Die Psychologic des Hugo
von St. Viktor" (Baeumker's Beitrdge, Miinster, 1906).
^ De script, cap. 2 (Migne 175, col. 11).
^ De script, cap. 2 (Migne 175, col. 10).
* Summa sententiarum (Migne 176, col. 42-174) ; also under title of Tractatus
theologictcs, wrongly ascribed to Hildebert of Lavardin, in Migne 171, col. 1067-
1150.
CH. XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 387
Eruditio didascalica — is of greater interest.^ It commences
in elementary fashion, as a manual of study : " There are
two things by which we gain knowledge, to wit, reading
and meditation ; reading comes first." The book is to be
a guide to the student in the study both of secular and
divine writings ; it teaches how to study the artes, and then
how to study the Scriptures. ^ Even in this manual, Hugo
shows himself a meditative soul, and one who seeks to base
his most elementary expositions upon the nature and needs
of man. The mind, says he, is distracted by things of
sense, and does not know itself. It is renewed through
study, so that it learns again not to look without for what
itself affords. Learning is life's solace, which he who finds
is happy, and he who makes his own is blessed.^
For Hugo, philosophy is that which investigates the
rationes of things human and divine, seeking ever the final
wisdom, which is knowledge of the primaeva ratio : this
distinguishes philosophy from the practical sciences, like
agriculture : it follows the ratio, and they administer the
matter. Again and again, Hugo returns to the thought
that the object of all human actiones and studia is to restore
the integrity of our nature or mitigate its weaknesses, restore
the image of the divine similitude in us, or minister to the
needs of life. This likeness is renewed by speculatio veritatis,
or exercitium virtutis.^
Such is a pretty broad basis of theory for a high school
manual. Hugo proceeds to set forth the scheme, rather
than the substance, of the arts and sciences, pausing
occasionally to admonish the reader to hold no science
vile, since knowledge always is good ; and he points out
that all knowledge hangs together in a common coher-
ency. He sketches ^ the true student's life : Whoever seeks
learning, must not neglect discipline ! He must be humble,
and not ashamed to learn from any one ; he must observe
decent manners, and not play the fool and make faces at
1 Migne 176, col. 740-838.
* I think of no previous work so closely resembling the Erud. didas. as the
Institutiones divinarum et saecularum lectionum of Cassiodorus.
3 Erud. did. i. 2.
* Here one sees the source of much that we quoted from Vincent de
Beauvais, ante. Chapter XXXVI., i.
^ Lib. iii. cap. 13 sqq.
388 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
lecturers on divinity, for thereby he insults God. Yea, and
let him mind the example of the ancient sages, who for
learning's sake spurned honours, rejected riches, rejoiced in
insults, deserted the companionship of men, and gave
themselves up to philosophy in desert solitudes, that they
might be more free for meditation. Diligent search for
wisdom in quietude becomes a scholar ; and likewise
poverty, and likewise exile : he is very delicate who clings
to his fatherland ; " He is brave to whom every land is
home {patria) ; and he is perfect to whom the whole world
is an exile ! " ^
Hugo has much to say of the pulchritudo and the decor
of the creature-world. But with him the world and its
beauty point to God. One should observe it because of
its suggestiveness, the visible suggesting the invisible.
Hugo has already been followed in his argument that the
world, in its veriest reality, is a symbol.'^ Here we follow
him along his path of knowledge, which leads on and
upward from cogitatio, through meditatio, to contemplatio.
The steps in Hugo's scheme are rational, though the
summit lies beyond. This path to truth, leading on from
the visible symbol to the unseen power, is for him the
reason and justification of study ; drawing to God, it makes
for man's salvation.
Hugo has put perhaps his most lucid exposition of the
three grades of knowledge into the first of his Nineteen
Sermons on Ecdesiastes.^ He is fond of certain numbers,
and here his thought revolves in categories of the number
three. Solomon composed three works, the Proverbs,
Ecclesiastes, and Canticles. In the first, he addresses his
son paternally, admonishing him to pursue virtue and shun
vice ; in the second, he shows the grown man that nothing
in the world is stable ; finally, in Canticles, he brings the
consummate one, who has spurned the world, to the
Bridegroom's arms.
" Three are the modes of cognition {visiones) belonging to
the rational soul : cogitation, meditation, contemplation. It is
^ Erud. did. iii. cap. 20. Cf. ante, p. 89.
2 Ante, Chapter XXIX. ^ Migne, Pat. Lat. 175, col. 115 sqq.
CH. XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 389
cogitation when the mind is touched with the ideas of things,
and the thing itself is by its image presented suddenly, either
entering the mind through sense or rising from memory.
Meditation is the assiduous and sagacious revision of cogitation,
and strives to explain the involved, and penetrate the hidden.
Contemplation is the mind's perspicacious and free attention,
diffused everywhere throughout the range of whatever may
be explored. There is this difference between meditation and
contemplation : meditation relates always to things hidden
from our intelligence ; contemplation relates to things made
manifest, either according to their nature or our capacity.
Meditation always is occupied with some one matter to be
investigated ; contemplation spreads abroad for the comprehend-
ing of many things, even the universe. Thus meditation is a
certain inquisitive power of the mind, sagaciously striving to
look into the obscure and unravel the perplexed. Contemplation
is that acumen of intelligence which, keeping all things open to
view, comprehends all with clear vision. Thus contemplation
has what meditation seeks.
" There are two kinds of contemplation : the first is for
beginners, and considers creatures ; the kind which comes later,
belongs to the perfect, and contemplates the Creator. In the
Proverbs, Solomon proceeds as through meditation. In Ecclesi-
astes, he ascends to the first grade of contemplation. In the
Song of Songs, he transports himself to the final grade. In
meditation there is a wrestHng of ignorance with knowledge ;
and the fight of truth gleams as in a fog of error. So fire is
kindled with difficulty in a heap of green wood ; but then fanned
with stronger breath, the flame burns higher, and we see volumes
of smoke rolfing up, with flame flashing through. Little by
Httle the damp is exhausted, and the leaping fire dispels the
smoke. Then victrix flamma darting through the heap of crack-
ling wood, springs from branch to branch, and with lambent
grasp catches upon every twig ; nor does it rest until it penetrates
everywhere and draws into itself all that it finds which is not
flame. At length the whole combustible material is purged of
its own nature and passes into the simihtude and property of
fire ; then the din is hushed, and the voracious fire having
subdued aU, and brought aU into its own hkeness, composes
itself to a high peace and silence, finding nothing more that is
ahen or opposed to itself. First there was fire with flame and
smoke ; then fire with flame, without smoke ; and at last
pure fire with neither flame nor smoke."
So the victrix flamma achieves the three stages of
spiritual insight, fighting its way through the smoke of
390 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
cogitation, through the smoke and flame of meditation
and at last through the flame of creature contemplation,
to the high peace of God, where all is love's ardent vision,
without flame or smoke. It is thus through the grades of
knowledge that the soul reaches at last that fulness of
intelligence which may be made perfect and inflamed with
love, in the contemplation of God. All knowledge is
good according to its grade ; only let it always lead on to
God, and with humility. Hugo makes his principles clear
at the opening of his commentary on the Celestial Hierarchy
of Dionysius.^
" The Jews seek a sign, and the Greeks wisdom. There was a
certain wisdom which seemed such to them who knew not the
true wisdom. The world found it, and began to be puffed up,
thinking itself great in this. Confiding in its wisdom, it presumed,
and boasted that it would attain the highest wisdom. . . . And
it made itself a ladder of the face of the creation, shining toward
the invisible things of the Creator. . . . Then those things
which were seen were known, and there were other things which
were not known ; and through those which were manifest they
expected to reach those which were hidden ; and they stumbled
and fell into the falsehoods of their own imaginings. ... So
God made foolish the wisdom of this world ; and He pointed out
another wisdom, which seemed foolishness, and was not. For
it preached Christ crucified, in order that truth might be sought
in humility. But the world despised it, wishing to contemplate
the works of God, which He had made to be marvelled at, and
it did not wish to venerate what He had set for imitation.
Neither did it look to its own disease, and seek a medicine with
piety ; but presuming on a false health, it gave itself over with
vain curiosity to the study of alien matters."
This study made the wisdom of the world, whereby it
devised the arts and sciences which we still learn. But the
world in its pride did not read aright the great book of
nature. It had not the knowledge of the true Exemplar,
for the sanitation of its inner vision, to wit, the flesh of the
eternal Word in the humanity of Jesus.
" There were two images {simulacra) set for man, in which he
might perceive the unseen : one consisting of nature, the other of
grace. The former image was the face of this world ; the latter
1 Migae, Pat. Lat. 175, col. 923 sqq.
CH. XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 391
was the humanity of the Word. And God is shown in both, but
He is not understood in both ; since the appearance of nature
discloses the artificer, but cannot illuminate the eyes of him who
contemplates it."
Hugo then classifies the sciences in the usual Aristotelian
way, and shows that Christian theology is the end of all
philosophy. The first part of philosophia theorica is
mathematics, which speculates as to the visible forms of
visible things. The second is physics, which scrutinizes the
invisible causes of visible things. The third, theology, alone
contemplates invisible substances and their invisible natures.
Herein is a certain progression ; and the mind mounts to
knowledge of the true. Through the visible forms of visible
things, it comes to invisible causes of visible things ; and
through the invisible causes of visible things, it ascends to
invisible substances, and to knowing their natures. This
is the summit of philosophy and the perfection of truth.
In this, as already said, the wise of this world were made
foolish ; because proceeding by the natural document alone,
making account only of the elements and appearance of the
world, they missed the instructive instances of Grace : which
in spite of humble guise afford the clearer insight into
truth.
This is Hugo's scheme of knowledge ; it begins with
cogitatio, then proceeds through meditatio to contemplatio
of the creature world, and finally of the Creator. The arts
and sciences, as well as the face of nature, afford a simu-
lacrum of the unseen Power ; but all this knowledge by
itself will not bring man to the perfect knowledge of God.
For this he needs the exemplar ia of Grace, shown through
the incarnation of the Word. Only by virtue of this added
means, may man attain to perfect contemplation of the
truth of God. That end and final summit is beyond
reason's reach ; but the attainment of rational knowledge
makes part of the path thither. Keen as was Hugo's
intellectual nature, his interest in reason was coupled with
a deeper interest in that which reason might neither include
nor understand. The intellect does not include the emotional
and immediately desiderative elements of human nature ;
neither can it comprehend the infinite which is God ; and
392 THE MEDIAEVAL. MIND bookvh
Hugo drew toward God not only through his intellect, but
likewise through his desiderative nature, with its yearnings
of religious love. That love with him was rational, since
its object satisfied his mind as far as his mind could
comprehend it.
So Hugo's intellectual interests were connected with the
emotional side of human nature, and also led up to what
transcended reason. Thus they led to what was a mystery
because too great for human reason, and they included
that which also was somewhat of a mystery to reason
because lying partly outside its sphere. Hugo is an instance
of the intellectual nature which will not rest in reason's pro-
vince, but feels equally impelled to find expression for matters
that either exceed the mind, or do not altogether belong to
it. Such an intellect is impelled to formulate its convictions
in regard to these ; its negative conviction that it cannot
comprehend them, and why it cannot ; and its more positive
conviction of their value — of the absolute worth of God,
and of man's need of Him, and of the love and fear by
which men may come close to Him, or avoid His wrath.
What Hugo has had to say as to cogitation, meditation,
and contemplation, represents his analysis of the stages by
which a sufficing sense may be reached of the Creator and
His world of creature-kind. In this final wisdom and ardour
of contemplation, both human reason and human love have
part. The intellect advances along its lines, considering
the world, and drawing inferences as to the unseen Being
who created and sustains it. Mind's unaided power will
not reach. But by the grace of God, supremely manifested
in the Incarnation, the man is humbled, and his heart is
touched and drawn to love the power of the divine pity and
humility. The lesson of the Incarnation and its guiding
grace, emboldens the heart and enlightens the mind ; and
the man's faculties are strengthened and uplifted to the
contemplation of God, wherein the mind is satisfied and the
heart at rest.
We have here the elements of piety, intellectual and
devotional. Hugo is an example of their union ; they also
preserve their equal weight in Aquinas. But because Hugo
emphasizes the limitations of the intellect, and so ardently
cH.xxxvii .TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 393
recognizes the heart's yearning and immediacy of appercep-
tion, he is what is styled a mystic ; a term which we are
now in a position to consider, and, to some extent, exchange
for other phrases of more definite significance.^
Quite to avoid the term is not possible, inasmuch as the
conception certainly includes what is mysterious because
unknowable through reason. For it includes a sense of
the supreme, a sense of God, who is too great for human
reason to comprehend, and therefore a mystery. And it
includes a yearning toward God, the desire of Him, and the
feeling of love. The last is also mysterious, in that it has
not exclusive part with reason, but springs as well from
feeling. Yet the essence or nature of this spirit of piety
which we would analyse, consists in consciousness of the
reality of the object of its yearning or devotion. Not
altogether through induction or deduction, but with an
irrational immediacy of conviction, it feels and knows its
object. In place of the knowledge which is mediated through
rational processes, is substituted a conviction upheld by
yearning, love's conviction indeed, of the reality and presence
of that which is all the greater and more worthy because it
baffles reason. And the final goal attainable by this
mystic love is, even as the goal of other love, union with
the Beloved.
The mystic spirit is an essential part of all piety or
religion, which relates always and forever to the rationally
unknown and therefore mysterious. Without a conscious-
ness of mystery, there can be neither piety nor religion. Nor
can there be piety without some devotion to God, nor the
deepest and most ardent forms of piety, without fervent
love of God. This devotion and this love supply strength
of conviction, creating a realness of communion with
the divine, and an assurance of the soul's rest and peace
therein. But that the intellect has part, Hugo abundantly
demonstrates. One must have perceptions, and thought's
severest wrestlings — cogitatio and meditatio — before reaching
the first stage of wide and sure intelligence, which relates
1 The following consideration of the mysticism of Christian theologians is not
intended to include other forms of " mysticism " (Pantheistic, poetical, patho-
logical, neurotic, intellectual, and sensuous) within or without the Christian pale.
394 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
to the creature world, and affords a broad basis of assurance,
whence at last the soul shall spring to God. Intellectual
perceptions and rational knowledge, and all the mind's
puttings together of its data in inductions and deductions
and constructions, form a basis for contemplation, and yield
material upon which the emotional side of human nature
may exercise itself in yearning and devotion. Herein the
constructive imagination works ; which is intellectual faculty
illuminated and impelled by the emotions.
This spirit actualizes itself in the power and scope of
its resultant conviction, by which it makes real to itself the
qualities, attributes, and actions of its object, God, and the
nature of man's relationship or union with the divine. In
its final energy, when only partly conscious of its intellectual
inductions, it discards syllogisms, quite dissatisfied with their
devious and hesitating approach. Instead, by the power of
love, it springs directly to its God. Nevertheless, the soul
which feels the inadequacy of reason even to voice the
soul's desires, will seek means of expression wherein reason
still will play a submerged part. The soul is seeking to
express what is not altogether expressible in direct and
rational statement. It seeks adumbrations, partial unveilings
of its sentiments, which shall perhaps make up in warmth
of colour what they lack in definiteness of line. In fine, it
seeks symbols. Such symbolism must be large and elastic,
in order to shadow forth the soul's relations with the Infinite ;
it must also be capable of carrying passion, that it may
satisfy the soul's craving to give voice to its great love.
In Greek thought as well as in the Hellenizing Judaism
of a Philo, symbolism, or more specifically speaking, alle-
gorical interpretation, was obviously apologetic, seeking to
cloud in naturalistic interpretations the doings of the rather
over-human gods of Greece.^ But it sprang also from the
unresting need of man to find expression for that sense of
things which will not fit definite statement. This was the
need which became creative, and of necessity fancifully
creative, with Plato. Though he would have nothing to do
with falsifying apologetics, all the more he felt the need of
allegories, to suggest what his dialectic could not formulate.
1 Ante, p. 68 sqq.
cH.xxxvn TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 395
In the early times of the Church mUitant of Christ, alle-
gorical interpretation was exploited to defend the Faith ; m
the later patristic period, the Faith had so far triumphed,
that allegory as a sword of defence and attack might be
sheathed, or just allowed to glitter now and then half-drawn.
But piety's other need, with increasing energy, compelled
the use of symbols and articulate allegory to express the
directly inexpressible. Thereafter through the Middle Ages,
while the use of allegory as a defence against the Gentiles
slumbered, so much more the other need of it, and the sense
of the universal symbolism of material things, filled the
minds of men ; and in age-long answer to this need, alle-
gory, symbolism, became part of the very spirit of the
mediaeval time.
Thus it became the universal vehicle of pious expression :
it may be said almost to have co-extended with all mediaeval
piety. It was ardently loving, as with St. Bernard ; it
might be filled with scarlet passion, as with Mechthild of
Magdeburg • or it might be used in the self-conscious, and
yet inspired vision-pictures of Hildegard of Bingen. And
indeed with almost any mediaeval man or woman, it might
keep talking, as a way of speech, obtrusively, conventionally,
ad nauseam. For indeed in treatise after treatise even of
the better men, allegory seems on the one hand to become
very fooHsh and perverse, banal, intolerably talking on and
on beyond the point ; or again we sense its mechanism,
hear the creaking of its jaws, while no living voice emerges,
—and we suspect that the mystery of life, if it may not be
compassed by direct statement, also lies deeper than alle-
gorical conventions. . .
Hugo's great De sacramentis showed the equipoise ot
intellectual and pietistic interests in him, and the Platonic
quality of his mind's sure sense of the reality of the super-
sensual 1 Other treatises of his show his yearning piety, and
the Augustinian quality of his soul, " made toward thee and
unquiet till it rests in thee." The De area Noe morah,^ that
is to say, the Ark of Noah viewed in its moral significance,
is charming in its spiritual refinement, and interesting m its
1 Ante, Chapter XXIX.
2 Migne, Pat. Lot. 176, col. 617-680.
396 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
catholic intellectual reflections. The Prologue presents a
situation :
" As I was sitting once among the brethren, and they were
asking questions, and I replying, and many matters had been cited
and adduced, it came about that all of us at once began to marvel
vehemently at the unstableness and disquiet of the human heart ;
and we began to sigh. Then they pleaded with me that I would
show them the cause of such whirlings of thought in the human
heart ; and they besought me to set forth by what art or exercise
of discipline this evil might be removed. I indeed wished to
satisfy my brethren, so far as God might aid me, and untie the
knot of their questions, both by authority and by argument.
I knew it would please them most if I should compose my matter
to read to them at table.
" It was my plan to show first whence arise such violent
changes in man's heart, and then how the mind may be led to
keep itself in stable peace. And although I had no doubt that
this is the proper work of grace, rather than of human labour,
nevertheless I know that God wishes us to co-operate. Besides,
it is well to know the magnitude of our weakness and the mode
of its repairing, since so much the deeper will be our gratitude.
" The first man was so created, that if he had not sinned,
he would always have beheld in present contemplation his
Creator's face, and by always seeing Him, would have loved Him
always, and, by loving, would always have clung close to Him,
and by clinging to Him who was eternal, would have possessed
life without end. Evidently the one true good of man was
perfect knowledge of his Creator. But he was driven from the
face of the Lord, since for his sin he was struck with the blindness
of ignorance, and passed from that intimate light of contemplation ;
and he inclined his mind to earthly desires, as he began to forget
the sweetness of the divine. Thus he was made a wanderer and
fugitive over the earth. A wanderer indeed, because of dis-
ordered concupiscence ; and a fugitive, through guilty conscience,
which feels every man's hand against it. For every temptation
will overcome the man who has lost God's aid.
" So man's heart which had been kept secure by divine love,
and one by loving one, afterwards began to flow here and there
through earthly desires. For the mind which knows not to love
its true good, is never stable and never rests. Hence restlessness,
and ceaseless labour, and disquiet, until the man turns and
adheres to Him. The sick heart wavers and quivers ; the cause
of its disease is love of the world ; the remedy, the love of God."
Hugo's object is to give rest to the restless heart, by
cH.xxxvn TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 397
directing its love to God. One still bears in mind his three
plains of knowledge, forming perhaps the three stages of
ascent, at the top of which is found the knowledge that turns
to divine contemplation and love. There may be a direct
and simple love of God for simple souls ; but for the man
of mind, knowledge precedes love.
" In two ways God dwells in the human heart, to wit, through
knowledge and through love ; yet the dwelling is one, since
every one who knows Him, loves, and no one can love without
knowing. Knowledge through cognition of the Faith erects the
structure ; love through virtue, paints the edifice with colour." ^
Then make a habitation for God in thy heart. This is
the great matter, and indeed all : for this, Scripture exists,
and the world was made, and God became flesh, through
His humility making man sublime. The Ark of Noah is
the type of this spiritual edifice, as it is also the type of the
Church.
The piety and Allegory of this work rise as from a basis
of knowledge. The allegory indeed is drawn out and out,
until it seems to become sheer circumlocution. This was
the mediaeval way, and Hugo's too, alas ! We will not
follow further in this treatise, nor take up his De area Noe
mystica,^ which carries out into still further detail the
symbolism of the Ark, and applies it to the Church and
the people of God. Hugo has also left a colloquy between
man and his soul on the true love, which lies in spiritual
meditation.^ But it is clear that the reaches of Hugo's
yearning are still grounded in intellectual considerations,
though these may be no longer present in the mind of him
whose consciousness is transformed to love.
One may discern the same progression, from painful
thought to surer contemplation, and thence to the heart's
devoted communion, in him whom we have called the Thor
and Loki of the Church. No twelfth-century soul loved
God more zealously than St. Bernard. He was not strong
^ De area Noe morali, i. cap. 2 (Migne 176, col. 621).
^ Migne 176, col. 681-703. With Hugo's pupU, Richard of St. Victor, this
constant allegory, especially the constant altegorical use of Scripture names,
becomes pedantic, precieux, impossible. See e.g. his Benjamin major in Migne
196, col. 64-202.
^ De arrha animae, Migne 176, col. 951-970.
398 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
in abstract reasoning. His mind needed the compulsion of
the passions to move it to subHme conclusions. Commonly
he is dubbed a mystic. But his piety and love of God
poise themselves on a basis of consideration before springing
to soar on other wings. In his De consider atione} Bernard
explains that word in the sense given by Hugo to meditatio,
while he uses contemplatio very much as Hugo does. It
applies to things that have become certain to the mind,
while " consider atio is busy investigating. In this sense
contemplatio may be defined as the true and certain intuition
of the mind [intuitus animi) regarding anything, or the sure
apprehension of the true : while consideratio is thought
intently searching, or the mind's endeavour to track out the
true." 2
Contemplatio, even though it forget itself in ecstasy, must
be based on prior consideration ; then it may take wings of
its own, or rather (with orthodox Hugo and Bernard) wings
of grace, and fly to the bosom of its God. This flight is the
immediacy of conviction and the ecstasy which follows.
One may even perceive the thinking going on during the
soul's outpour of love. For the mind still supports the
soul's ardour with reasonings, original or borrowed, as
appears in the second sermon of that long series preached
by Bernard on Canticles to his own spiritual elite of
Clairvaux.^ The saintly orator is yearning, yearning for
Christ Himself ; he will have naught of Moses or Isaiah ;
nor does he desire dreams, or care for angels' visits : ipse,
ipse me osculetur, cries his soul in the words of Canticles — ^let
Him kiss me. The phrasing seems symbolical ; but the
yearning is direct, and at least rhetorically overmastering.
The emotion is justified by its reasons. They lie in the
personality of Christ and Bernard's love of Him, rising from
all his knowledge of Him, even from his experience of Jesus'
whisperings to the soul. He knows how vastly Jesus sur-
passes the human prophets who prefigured or foretold Him :
ipsos longe superat Jesus meus — the word meus is love's very
^ Migne 182, col. 727-808. Translated by George Lewis in the Oxford Library
of Translations.
^ De consid. lib. ii. cap. 2.
^ Migne 183, col. 789 sqq. Chapter XVIIL, ante, is devoted to Bernard, and
his letters and sermons.
cH.xxxvii TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 399
articulation. The orator cries : " Listen ! Let the kissing
mouth be the Word assuming flesh ; and the mouth kissed
be the flesh which is assumed ; then the kiss which is
consummated between them is the persona compacted of
the two, to wit, the mediator of God and men, the man
Christ Jesus."
This identical allegory goes back to Origen's Commentary
on Canticles. Bernard has kindled it with an intimate love
of Jesus, which is not Origen's. But the thought explains
and justifies Bernard's desire to be kissed by the kiss of His
mouth, and so to be infolded in the divine love which " gave
His only-begotten Son," and also became flesh. Os osculans
signifies the Incarnation : one realizes the emotional power
which that saving thought would take through such a
metaphor. At the end of his sermon, Bernard sums up the
conclusion, so that his hearers may carry it away :
"It is plain that this holy kiss was a grace needed by the
world, to give faith to the weak, and satisfy the desire of the
perfect. The kiss itself is none other than the mediator of God
and men, the man Christ Jesus, who with the Father and the
Holy Spirit Uves and reigns God, per omnia saecula saeculorum,
Amen,"
III
There is small propriety in speaking of these men of
the first half of the twelfth century as Platonists or Aristo-
telians ; nor is there great interest in trying to find in Plato
or Aristotle or Plotinus the specific origin of any of their
thoughts. They were apt to draw on the source nearest
and most convenient ; and one must remember that their
immediate philosophic antecedents were not the distinct
systems of Plato and Aristotle and Plotinus, but rather the
late pagan eras of eclecticism, followed by that strongly
motived syntheticism of the Church Fathers which selected
whatever might accord with their Christian scheme. So
Abaelard must not be called an Aristotelian. Neither he
nor his contemporaries knew what an Aristotelian was,
and when they called Abaelard Peripaieticus, they meant
one skilled in the logic which was derived from the simpler
treatises of Aristotle's Organon. Nor will we call Hugo a
400 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
Platonist, in spite of his fine affinities with Plato ; for many
of Hugo's thoughts, his classification of the sciences for
example, pointed, back to Aristotle.
Abaelard, Hugo, St. Bernard suggest the triangulation
of the epoch's intellectual interests. Peter Lombard, some-
what their junior, presents its compend of accepted and
partly digested theology. He took his method from
Abaelard, and drew whole chapters of his work from Hugo ;
but his great source, which was also theirs, was Augustine,
The Lombard was, and was to be, a representative man ; for
his Sentences brought together the ultimate problems which
exercised the minds of the men of his time and after.
The early and central decades of the twelfth century
offer other persons who may serve to round out our general
notion of the character of the intellectual interests which
occupied the period before the rediscovery of Aristotle, that
is, of the substantial Aristotelian encyclopaedia of knowledge.
Among such Adelard of Bath (England) was somewhat older
than Abaelard. His keen pursuit of knowledge made him
one of its early pilgrims to Spain and Greece. He compiled
a book of Quaestiones naturales, and another called De eodem
et diver so} in which he struggled with the problem of uni-
versal, and with palpable problems of psychology. His
cosmology shows a genial culling from the Timaeus fragment
of Plato, and such other bits of Greek philosophy as he had
access to.
Adelard was influenced by the views of men who taught
or studied at Chartres. Bernard of Chartres, the first of the
great Chartrian teachers of the early twelfth century, ^ wrote
on Porphyry, and after his death was called by John of Salis-
bury perfectissimus inter Platonicos saeculi nostri. He was
one of those extreme realists whose teachings might bear
pantheistic fruit in his disciples ; he had also a Platonistic
imagination, leading him to see in Nature a living organism.
Bernard's younger brother, Thierry, also called of Chartres,
extended his range of studies, and compiled numerous works
on natural knowledge, indicating his wide reading and
receptive nature. His realism brought him very close to
^ Ed. by Willner (Baeumker's Beitrage, Miinster, 1903).
* See ante, Chapter XXXI,, i.
cH.xxxvii TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 401
pantheism, which indeed flowered poetically in his admirer
or pupil, Bernard Silvestris of Tours.
If we should analyze the contents of the latter's De
mundi universitate, it might be necessary to affirm that the
author was a dualistic thinker, in that he recognized two first
principles, God and matter ; and also that he was a pantheist,
because of the way in which he sees in God the source of
Nature : " This mind {nous) of the supreme God is soul
{intellectus) , and from its divinity Nature is born." ^ One
should not, however, drive the heterogeneous thoughts of
these twelfth-century people to their opposite conclusions.
A moderate degree of historical insight should prevent our
interpreting their gleanings from the past by formulas of our
own greater knowledge. Doubtless their books — Hugo's as
well as Thierry's and Bernard Silvester's — have enough of
contradiction if we will probe for it with a spirit not their
own. But if we will see with their eyes and perceive with
their feelings, we shall find ourselves resting with each of
them in some unity of personal temperament ; and that,
rather than any half -borrowed thought, is Hugo or Thierry
or Bernard Silvestris. Silvester's book, De mundi universi-
tate, sive Megacosmus et microcosmus, is a half poem, like
Boethius's De consolatione and a number of mediaeval pro-
ductions to which there has been occasion to allude. It is
fruitless to dissect such a composite of prose and verse. In
it Natura speaks to Nous, and then Nous to Natura ; the
four elements come into play, and nine hierarchies of angels ;
the stars in their firmaments, and the genesis of things on
earth ; Physics and her daughters, Theorica and Practica,
and all the figures of Greek mythology. An analysis of
such a book will turn it to nonsense, and destroy the breath
of that twelfth-century temperament which loved to gather
driftwood from the wreckage of the ancient world of thought.
Thus perhaps they expected to draw to themselves, even
from the pagan flotsam, some congenial explanation of the
universe and man.
^ Bemardus Silvestris, De mundi universitate, i. 2 (ed. by Barach and Wrobel ;
Innsbriick, 1876). As to Bernard Silvestris, see Clerval, Scales de Chartres au
moyen age, p. 259 sqq. and passim ; also Haureau (who confuses him with Bernard
of Chartres), Hist, de la phil. scholastique, ii. 407 sqq.
VOL. II 2D-
402 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
A far more acute thinker was Gilbert de la Porree/ who
taught at Chartres for a number of years, before advancing
upon Paris in 1141. He next became Bishop of Poictiers, and
died in 11 54. Like Abaelard, he was primarily a logician,
and occupied himself with the problem of universals, taking
a position not so different from Abaelard's. Like Abaelard
also, Gilbert was brought to task before a council, in which
St. Bernard sought to be the guiding, scilicet, condemning
spirit. But the condemnation was confined to certain sen-
tences, which when cut from their context and presented in
distorting isolation, the author willingly sacrificed to the
flames. He refused, some time afterwards, to discuss his
views privately with the Abbot of Clairvaux, saying that the
latter was too inexpert a theologian to understand them.
Gilbert's most famous work, De sex.principiis, attempted to
complete the last six of Aristotle's ten Categories, which the
philosopher had treated cursorily ; it was almost to rival the
work of the Stagirite in authority, for instance, with Albertus
Magnus, who wrote a Commentary upon it in the same spirit
with which he commented on the logical treatises of the
Organon.
In the same year with Gilbert (11 54) died a man of
different mental tendencies, William of Conches,^ who like-
wise had been a pupil of Bernard of Chartres. He was for
a time the tutor of Henry Plantagenet. William was in-
terested in natural knowledge, and something of a humanist.
He made a Commentary on the Timaeus, and wrote various
works on the philosophy of Nature, in which he wavered
around an atomistic explanation of the world, yet held fast
to the Biblical Creation, to save his orthodoxy. He also
pursued the study of medicine, which was a specialty at
Chartres ; through the treatises of Constantinus Africanus ^
he had some knowledge of the pathological theories of Galen
and Hippocrates. For his interest in physical knowledge,
^ See Grabmann, Ges. der schol. Methode, ii. p. 408 sqq. ; Haiireau, Hist. etc.
ii. '447-472 ; R. L. Poole, Illustrations of Mediaeval Thought, chap. vi. His Liher
de sex principiis is printed in Migne 188, col. 1257-1270.
^ Werner, " Die Kosmologie und Naturlehre des scholastischen Mittelalters,
mit specialler Beziehung auf Wilhelm von Conches," Sitzungsb. K. Akad., philos.
Klasse, 1873, Bd. Ixxv. ; Haureau, Hist. etc. i. 431-446; ibid. Singularites lit-
teraires, etc. ^ Ante, Vol. I., p. 252.
cH.xxxvii TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 403
he may be regarded as a precursor of Roger Bacon. On
the other hand, he was a humanist in his strife against those
"Cornificiani " who would know no more Latin than was
needful ; ^ and he compiled from the pagan moralists a sort of
Summa. It is caUed, in fact, a Summa moralium philoso-
phorum (an interesting title, connecting it with the Christian
Summae sententiarum) .^ It treats the virtues under the
head of de honesto ; and under that of de utile, reviews the
other good things of mind, body, and estate. It also dis-
cusses whether there may be a conflict between the honesUim
and the utile.
These men of the first half of the twelfth century lived
before the new revealing of the Aristotelian philosophy and
natural knowledge coming at the century's close. Their
muster is finally completed by two younger men, the one an
Englishman and the other a Lowlander. The youthful years
of both synchronize with the old age of the men of whom
we have been speaking. For John of Salisbury was born
not far from the year 11 15, and died in 1180 ; and Alanus
de Insulis (Lille) was probably born in 1128, and lived to
the beginning of the next century. They are spiritually
connected with the older men because they were taught by
them, and because they had small share in the coming
encyclopaedic knowledge. But they close the group : John
of Salisbury closing it by virtue of his critical estimate of its
achievement ; Alanus by virtue of his final rehandling of the
body of intellectual data at its disposal, to which he may
have made some slight addition. Abaelard knew and used
the simpler treatises of the Aristotelian Organon of logic.
He had not studied the Analytics and the Topics, and of
course was unacquainted with the body of Aristotle's philo-
sophy outside of logic. John of Salisbury and Alanus know
the entire Organon ; but neither one nor the other knows
the rest of Aristotle, which Alexander of Hales was the first
to. make large use of.
John of Salisbury, Little John, Johannes Parvus, as he
was called, was a most excellent classical scholar.^ His
1 Ante, Chapter XXXI., i.
* Under another title, Moralis philosophia de honesto et utile, it has been
ascribed to Hildebert of Lavardin, Migne 171, col. 1007-1056.
^ For examples of John's Latin, see ante, p. 201.
404 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
was an acute and active intellect, which never tired of
hearing and weighing the views of other men. He was,
moreover, a man of large experience, travelling much, and
listening to all the teachers prominent in his youth. Also he
was active in affairs, being at one time secretary to Thibaut,
Archbishop of Canterbury, and then the intimate of Becket,
of Henry II., and Pope Adrian IV. ! A finished scholar,
who knew not one thing, but whatever might be known,
and was enlightened by the training of the world, Little
John critically estimates the learning and philosophy of the
men he learns from. Having always an independent point
of view, he makes acute remarks upon it all, and admirable
contributions to the sum of current thought. But chiefly he
seems to us as one who looks with even eye upon whatsoever
comes within his vision. He knows the weaknesses of men
and the limitations of branches of discipline ; knows, for
instance, that dialectic is sterile by itself, but efficient as an
aid to other disciplines. So, as to logic, John keeps his own
point of view, and is always reasonable and practical. ^
Likewise, with open mind, he considers what there may be
in the alleged science of the Mathematicians, i.e. diviners
and astrologers. He uses such phrases as " prohahilia quidem
sunt haec . . . sed tamen the venom lies under the honey ! "
For this science sets a fatal necessity on things, and would
even intrude into the knowledge of the future reserved for
God's majesty. And as John considers the order of events
to come, and the diviner's art, cornua succrescunt — the horns
of more than one dilemma grow.^
John knew more than any man of the ancient philo-
sophies.^ For himself, of course he loved knowledge ; yet
he would not dissever it from its value in the art of living.
" Wisdom indeed is a fountain, from which pour forth the
streams which water the whole earth ; they fill not alone
the garden of delights of the divine page, but flow on to
the Gentiles, and do not altogether fail even the Ethiopians.
... It is certain that the faithful and wise reader, who
^ See e.g. his treatment of logic in Lib. III. and IV. of the Mdalogicus (Migne
199).
^ Policraticus, ii. 19-21 sqq.
* Policraticus, lib. vii., is devoted to a history of antique philosophy.
CH. XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 405
from love keeps learning's watch, escapes vice and draws
near to life." ^ Philosophy is the moderatrix omnium (a
favourite phrase with John) ; the true philosopher, as Plato
says, is a lover of God : and so philosophia is amor divinitatis.
Its precept is to love God with all our strength, and our neigh-
bour as ourselves : " He who by philosophizing has reached
charitas, has attained philosophy's true end." ^ John goes
on to show how deeply they err who think philosophy is but
a thing of words and arguments : many of those who
multiply words, by so doing burden the mind. Virtue in-
separably accompanies wisdom ; this is John's sum of the
matter. Clearly he is not always, or commonly, wrestling
with ultimate metaphysical problems ; he busies himself,
acutely but not metaphysically, with the wisdom of life.
He too can use the language of piety and contemplation.
In the sixth chapter of his De septem septenis (The
seven Sevens) he gives the seven grades of contemplation
— meditatio, soliloquium, circumspectio, ascensio, revelatio,
emissio, inspiratio.^ He presents the matter succinctly,
thus perhaps giving clarity to current pietistic phraseology.
Alanus de Insulis was a man of renown in his life-time,
and after his death won the title of Doctor Universalis.
Although the fame of scholar, philosopher, theologian, poet,
may have uplifted him during his years of strength, he died
a monk at Citeaux, in the year 1202. Fame came justly
to him, for he was learned in the antique literature, and a
gifted Latin poet, while as thinker and theologian he made
skilful and catholic use of his thorough knowledge of
whatever the first half of the twelfth century had achieved
in thought and system. Elsewhere he has been considered
as a poet ; * here we merely observe his position and
accomplishment in matters of salvation and philosophy.^
Alanus possessed imagination, language, and a faculty
of acute exposition. His sentences, especially his definitions,
are pithy, suggestive, and vivid. He projected much thought
^ Policraticus, vii. cap. lo. ^ Policrat. vii. cap. ii.
^ Migne 199, col. 955.
« Ante, Chapter XXX., 11. and XXXIII., i.
* The works of Alanus are collected in Migne, Pat. Lot. 210. What follows
in the text is much indebted to M. Baumgartner, " Die PhUosophie des Alanus
de Insulis " (Baeumker's Beitrdge, Miinster, 1896).
4o6 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
as well as fantasy into his poem, Anticlaudianus, and his
cantafable, De planctu naturae. He showed himself a man
of might, and insight too, in his Contra haereticos. His
suggestive pithiness of diction lends interest to his encyclo-
paedia of definitions, Distinctiones dictionum theologicalium ;
and his keen power of reasoning succinctly from axiomatic
premises is evinced in his De arte fidei catholicae.
The intellectual activities of Alanus fell in the latter
decades of the twelfth century, when mediaeval thought
seemed for the moment to be mending its nets, and preparing
for a further cast in the new waters of Aristotelianism.
Alanus is busy with what has already been won ; he is
unconscious of the new greater knowledge, which was
preparing its revelations. He is not even a man of the
transition from the lesser to the greater intellectual estate ;
but is rather a final compendium of the lesser. Himself no
epoch-making reasoner, he uses the achievements of Abaelard
and Hugo, of Gilbert de la Porree and William of Conches,
and others. Neither do his works unify and systematize the
results of his studies. He is rather a re-phraser. Yet his
refashioning is not a mere thing of words ; it proceeds with
the vitalizing power of the man's plastic and creative
temperament. One may speak of him as keen and acquisi-
tive intellectually, and creative through his temperament.
Alanus shows a catholic receptivity for all the mingled
strains of thought, Platonic, Aristotelian, Neo-Platonic and
Pythagorean, which fed the labours of his predecessors. He
has studied the older sources, the Timaeus fragment, also
Apuleius and Boethius of course. His chief blunder is his
misconception of Aristotle as a logician and confuser of
words {verborum turbator) — a phrase, perhaps, consciously
used with poetic licence. For he has made use of much
that came originally from the Stagirite. Within his range
of opportunity, Alanus was a universal reader, and his
writings discover traces of the men of importance from
Pseudo-Dionysius and Eriugena down to John of Salisbury
and Gundissalinus.
These remarks may take the place of any specific pre-
sentation of Alanus's work in logic, of his view of universals,
of his notions of physics, of nature, of matter and form, of
cH. XXXVII TWELFTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICS 407
man's mind and body, and of the Triune Godhead.^ In his
cosmology, however, we may note his imaginatively original
employment of the conception or personification of Nature.
God is the Creator, and Nature is His creature, and His vice-
regent or vicarious maker, working the generation and decay
of things material and changeable. ^ This thought, imagi-
natively treated, makes a good part of the poetry of the
De planctu and the Antidaudianus. The conception mth
him is full of charming fantasy, and we look back through
Bernardus Silvestris and other writers to Plato's divine
fooling in the Timaeus, not as the specific, but generic, origin
of such imaginative views of the contents and generation of
the world. Such imaginings were as fantasy to science,
when compared with the solid and comprehensive con-
sideration of the material world which was to come a few
years after Alanus's death, through the encyclopaedic
Aristotelian knowledge presented in the works of Alexander
of Hales and Albertus Magnus.
^ All this is thoroughly done by Baumgartner, o.c.
* See Baumgartner, p. 76 sqq. and citations.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE UNIVERSITIES, ARISTOTLE, AND THE MENDICANTS
Intellectually, the thirteenth century in western Europe
is marked by three closely connected phenomena : the
growth of Universities, the discovery and appropriation of
Aristotle, and the activities of Dominicans and Franciscans,
These movements were universal, in that the range of none
of them was limited by racial or provincial boundaries.
Yet a line may still be drawn between Italy, where law and
medicine were cultivated, and the North, where theology with
logic and metaphysics were supreme. Absorption in these
subjects produced a common likeness in the intellectual
processes of men in France, England, and Germany, whose
writings were to be no longer markedly affected by racial
idiosyncrasies. This was true of the logical controversy
regarding universals, so prominent in the first part of the
twelfth century. It was very true of the great intellectual
movement of the later twelfth and the thirteenth centuries, to
wit, the coming of Aristotle to dominance, in spite of the
counter-currents of Platonic Augustinianism.
The men who followed the new knowledge had slight
regard for ties of home, and travelled eagerly in search of
learning. So, even as from far and wide those who could
study Roman law came to Bologna, the study of theology
and all that philosophy included drew men to Paris, Thither
came the keen-minded from Italy and from England ; from
the Low Countries and from Germany ; and from the many
very different regions now covered by the name of France.
Wherever born and of whatever race, the devotees of
philosophy and theology at some period of their career reached
408
CHAP. XXXVIII THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 409
Paris, learned and taught there, and were affected by the
universahzing influence of an international aggregate of
scholarship. So had it been with Breton Abaelard, with
German Hugo, and with Lombard Peter ; so with English
John, hight of Salisbury. And in the following times
of culmination, Albertus Magnus comes in his maturity
from Germany ; and his marvellous pupil Thomas, born of
noble Norman stock in southern Italy, follows his master,
eventually to Paris. So Bonaventura of lowly mid-Itahan
birth likewise learns and teaches there ; and that unique
Englishman, Roger Bacon, and after him Duns Scotus.
These few greatest names symbolize the centralizing of
thought in the crowded and huddled lecture-rooms of the
City on the Seine.
The origins of the great mediaeval Universities can
scarcely be accommodated to simple statement. Their
history is frequently obscure, and always intricate ; and
the selection of a specific date or factor as determining the
inception, or distinctive development, of these mediaeval
creations is likely to be but arbitrary. They had no antique
prototype : nothing either in Athens or Rome ever resembled
these corporations of masters and students, with their
authoritative privileges, their fixed curriculum, and their
grades of formally certified attainment. Even the Alexandria
of the Ptolemies, with all the pedantry of its learned littera-
teurs and their minute study of the past, has nothing to
offer like the scholastic obsequiousness of the mediaeval
University, which sought to set upon one throne the antique
philosophy and the Christian revelation, that it might with
one and the same genuflection bow down before them both.
It behoves us to advert to the conditions influencing the
growth of Universities, and give a little space to those which
were chief among them.
The energetic human advance distinguishing the twelfth
century in western Europe exhibits among its most obvious
phenomena an increased mobility in all classes of society, and
a tendency to gather into larger communities and form strong
corporate associations for profit or protection. 1 No kind
of men were more quickly touched by the new mobility than
1 Ante, Chapter XIV.
4IO THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
the thousands of youthful learners who desired to extend
their knowledge, or, in some definite field, perfect their
education. In the eleventh century, such would commonly
have sought a monastery, near or far. In the twelfth and
then in the thirteenth, they followed the human currents
to the cities, where knowledge flourished as well as trade,
and tolerable accommodation might be had for teachers
and students. Certain towns, some for more, some for less,
obvious reasons, became homes of study. Bologna, Paris,
Oxford are the chief examples. Irnerius, famed as the
founder of the systematic study of the Roman law, and
Gratian, the equally famous orderer of the Canon law, taught
or wrote at Bologna when the twelfth century was young.
Their fame drew crowds of laymen and ecclesiastics, who
desired to equip themselves for advancement through the
business of the law, civil or ecclesiastical. At the same time,
hundreds, which grew to thousands, were attracted to the
Paris schools — the school of Notre Dame, where William of
Champeaux held forth ; the school of St. Victor, where he
afterwards established himself, and where Hugo taught ; and
the school of St. Genevieve, where Abaelard lectured on
dialectic and theology. These were palpable gatherings
together of material for a University. What first brought
masters and students to Oxford a few decades later is not so
clear. But Oxford had been an important town long before
a University lodged itself there.
In the twelfth century, citizenship scarcely protected one
beyond the city walls. A man carried but little safety with
him. Only an insignificant fraction of the students at
Bologna, and of both masters and students at Paris and
Oxford, were citizens of those towns. The rest had come
from everywhere. Paris and Bologna held an utterly
cosmopolitan, international, concourse of scholar-folk. And
these scholars, turbulent enough themselves, and dwelling
in a turbulent foreign city, needed affiliation there, and
protection and support. Organization was an obvious
necessity, and if possible the erection of a civitas within a
civitas, a University within a none too friendly town. This
was the primal situation, and the primal need. Through
somewhat different processes, and under different circum-
CHAP. XXXVIII
THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 41 1
stances, these exigencies evoked a University in Bologna,
Paris, and Oxford.^
In Italy, where the instincts of ancient Rome never were
extinguished, where some urban life maintained itself through
the early helpless mediaeval centuries, where during the same
period an infantile humanism did not cease to stammer ;
where " grammar " was studied and taught by laymen, and
the " ars dictaminis " practised men in the forms of legal
instruments, it was but natural that the new mtellectual
energies of the twelfth century should address themselves to
the study of the Roman law, which, although debased and
barbarized, had never passed into desuetude. And inasmuch
as abstract theology did not attract the ItaUan temperament
or meet the conditions of papal politics in Italy, it was
likewise natural that ecclesiastical energies should be directed
to the equally useful and closely related canon law. Such
studies with their practical ends could best be prosecuted at
some civic centre. In the first part of the twelfth century,
Irnerius lectured at Bologna upon the civil law ; a generation
later, Gratian pubhshed his Decretum there. The specific
reasons inducing the former to open his lectures in that city
are not known ; but a large and thrifty town set at the
meeting of the great roads from central Italy to the north
and east, was an admirable place for a civil doctor and his
audience, as the event proved. Gratian was a monk m a
Bologna convent, and may have listened to Irnerius. The
pubhcation of his Decretum from Bologna, by that time (cir.
1142) famous for jurisprudence, lent authority to this work,
whose universal recognition was to enhance in turn Bologna's
reputation.
From the time of this inception of juristic studies, the
talents of the doctors, and the city's fame, drew a prodigious
1 What I have felt obUged to say upon the organization of mediaeval Univer-
sities I have largely drawn from Rashdall's Universities of Europe in the Middle
Ages [Oxiord, 1895). The subject is too large and complex for mdependent
investigation, except of the most lengthy and thorough character. Extracts from
illustrative mediaeval documents, with considerable information touchmg
mediaeval Universities, are brought together by Arthur O. Norton m his Mediaeval
Universities (Readings in the History of Education, Harvard University 1909).
For the Paris University, the most important source is the Charttdartum Umver-
sitatis Parisiensis, ed. by Denifle and Chatelain (1889-1891). See also Ch Thurot
U Organisation de Venseignement dans I'Universite de Pans (Paris, 1850), and
Denifle, Die Universitdten des Mittelalters (Berlin, 1885).
412 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
concourse of students from all the lands of western Europe.
The Doctors of the Civil and Canon Laws organized
themselves into one, and subsequently into two, Colleges.
Apparently they had become an efficient association by the
third quarter of the twelfth century. But the University of
Bologna was to be constituted par excellence, not of one or
more colleges of doctors, but of societies of students. The
persons who came for legal instruction were not boys getting
their first education in the Arts. They were men studying
a profession, and among them were many individuals of
wealth and consequence, holding perhaps civil or ecclesiastic
office in the places whence they came. The vast majority had
this in common, that they were foreigners, with no civil rights
in Bologna. It behoved them to organize for their protection
and mutual support, and for the furtherance of the purposes
for which they had come. That a body of men in a foreign
city should live under the law of their own home, or the law
of their own making, did not appear extraordinary in the
twelfth century. It was not so long since the principle that
men carried the law of their home with them, had been
widely recognized, and in all countries the clergy still lived
under the law of the Church. The gains accruing from the
presence of a great number of foreign students might induce
the authorities of Bologna to permit them to organize as
student guilds, and regulate their affairs by rules of their
own, even as was done by other guilds in most Italian
cities. At Bologna the power of Guelf and Ghibeline clubs,
and of craftsmen's guilds, rivalled that of the city magistrates.
There is some indirect evidence that these students first
divided themselves into four Nationes. If so, the arrange-
ment did not last. For by the middle of the thirteenth
century they are found organized in two Universitates, or
corporations, a Universitas Citramontanorum and a Uni-
versitas Ultramontanorum ; each under its own Rector.
These tv/o corporations of foreign students constituted the
University. The Professors did not belong to them, and
therefore were not members of the University. Indeed they
fought against the recognition of this University of students,
asserting that the students were but their pupils. But the
students prevailed, strong in their numbers, and in the
cHAP.xxxviii THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 413
weapon which they did not hesitate to use, that of migration
to another city, which cut off the incomes of the Professors
and diminished the repute and revenue of Bologna. So
great became the power of the student body, that it brought
the Professors to complete subjection, paying them their
salaries, regulating the time and mode of lecturing, and
compelling them to swear obedience to the Rectors. The
Professors protested, but submitted. To make good its
domination over them, and its independence as against the
city, the student University migrated to Arezzo in 1215
and to Padua in 1222.^
In origin as well as organization, the University of Paris
differed from Bologna. It was the direct successor of the
cathedral school of Notre Dame. This had risen to
prominence under William of Champeaux. But Abaelard
drew to Paris thousands of students for William's hundreds
(or at least hundreds for William's tens) ; and Abaelard at
the height of his popularity taught at the school of St.
Genevieve, across the Seine. Therefore this school also,
although fading out after Abaelard's time, should be regarded
as a causal predecessor of the Paris University. So, for that
matter, should the neighbouring school of St. Victor, founded
by the discomfited William ; for its reputation under Hugo
and Richard drew devout students from near and far, and
augmented the scholastic fame of Paris.
It was both the privilege and duty of the Chancellor
of Notre Dame to license competent Masters to open schools
near the cathedral. In the course of time, these Masters
formed an Association, and assumed the right to admit to
their Society the licentiates of the Chancellor, to wit, the new
Masters who were about to begin to teach. In the decades
following Abaelard's death, the Masters who lectured in the
vicinity of Notre Dame increased in number. They spread
with their schools beyond the island, and taught in houses
on the bridges. They were Masters, that is, teachers, in the
Arts. As the twelfth century gave way to the thirteenth,
^ What has been said applies to the Bologna Law University. That had been
preceded by a school of Arts, and later there grew up a flourishing school
of Medicine, where surgery was also taught. These schools became af&liated
Universities, but never equalled the Law University in importance.
414 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
interest in the Arts waned before the absorbing passion for
metaphysical theology. This was a higher branch of study,
for which the Arts had come to be looked on as a preparation.
So the scholars of the schools of Arts became impatient to
graduate, that is, to reach the grade of Master, in order to
pass on to the higher study of theology. A result was that
the course of study in the Arts was shortened, while Masters
multiplied in number. Their Society seems to have become
a definite and formal corporate body or guild, not later
than the year 1175. Herein was the beginning of the Paris
University. It had become a studium generate, like Bologna,
because there were many Masters, and students from every-
where were admitted to study in their schools.
Gradually the University came to full corporate existence.
From about 1210, written statutes exist, passed by the
Society of Masters ; at the same date a Bull of Innocent
III. recognizes the Society as a Corporation. Then began
a long struggle for supremacy, between the Masters and the
Chancellor : it was the Chancellor's function to grant the
licence to become a Master ; but it was the privilege of the
Society to admit the licentiate to membership. The action
of both being thus requisite, time alone could tell with
whom the control eventually should rest. Was the self-
governing University to prevail, or the Chancellor of the
Cathedral ? The former won the victory.
The Masters in Arts constituted par excellence the
University, because they far outnumbered the Masters in
the upper Faculties of Theology, Law, and Medicine. They
were the dominant body ; what they decided on, the other
Faculties acquiesced in. These Masters in Arts, besides
being numerous, were young, not older than the law students
at Bologna. With their still younger students,^ they made
the bulk of the entire University, and were the persons who
most needed protection in their lawful or unlawful conduct.
At some indeterminate period they divided themselves into
the four Nationes, French, Normans, Picards, and English.
They voted by Nationes in their meetings ; but from a
period apparently as early as their organization, a Rector
was elected for all four Nationes, and not one Rector for each.
* The Masters who taught were called Regentes,
cHAP.xxxvm THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 415
There were, however, occasional schisms or failures to agree.
It was to be the fortune of the Rector thus elected to sup-
plant the Chancellor of the Cathedral as the real head of
the University.
The vastly greater number of the Masters in Arts were
actually students in the higher Faculties of Theology, Law,^
or Medicine, for which graduation in the Arts was the
ordinary prerequisite. The Masters or Doctors of these
three higher Faculties, at least from the year 12 13,
determined the qualifications of candidates in their depart-
ments. Nevertheless the Rector of the Faculty of Arts
continued his advance toward the headship of the whole
University. The oath taken by the Bachelors in the Arts,
of obedience to that Faculty and its Rector, was strengthened
in 1256, so as to bind the oath-taker so long as he should
continue a member of the University.
The University had not obtained its privileges without
insistence, nor without the protest of action as well as word.
Its first charter of privileges from the king was granted in
1200, upon its protests against the conduct of the Provost
of Paris in attacking riotous students. Next, in combating
the jurisdiction of the Chancellor, it obtained privileges from
the Pope ; and in 1229, upon failure to obtain redress for
an attack from the Provost's soldiers, ordered by the queen,
Blanche of Castile, the University dispersed. Thus it re-
sorted to the weapon by which the University of Bologna
had won the confirmation of its rights. In the year 1231
the great Papal Bull, Parens scientiarum, finally confirmed
the Paris University in its contentions and demands : the
right to suspend lectures was sanctioned, whenever satisfac-
tion for outrage had been refused for fifteen days ; likewise
the authority of the University to make statutes, and expel
members for a breach of them. The Chancellor of Notre
Dame and the Bishop of Paris were both constrained by
the same Bull.
A different struggle still awaited the University, in
which it was its good fortune not to be altogether success-
ful ; for it was contending against instruments of intellectual
1 Both civil and canon law were studied till 12 19, when a Bull of Honorius
III. forbade the study of the former at Paris.
41 6 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
and spiritual renovation, to wit, the Mendicant Orders. The
details are difficult to unravel at this distance of time. But
the Dominicans and Franciscans, in the lifetime of their
founders, established themselves in Paris, and opened
schools of theology. Their Professors were licensed by the
Chancellor, and yet seem to have been unwilling to fall in
with the customs of the University, and, for example, cease
from teaching and disperse, when it saw fit to do so. The
doctors of the theological Faculty became suspicious, and
opposed the admission of Mendicants to the theological
Faculty. The struggle lasted thirty years, until the
Dominicans obtained two chairs in that Faculty, and the
Franciscans perhaps the same number, on terms which
looked like a victory for the Orders, but in fact represented
a compromise ; for the Mendicant doctors in the end
apparently submitted to the statutes of the University.^
The origin of Oxford University was different, and one
may say more adventitious than that of Paris or Bologna.
For Oxford was not the capital of a kingdom, nor is it
known to have been an ancient seat of learning. The city
was not even a bishop's seat, a fact which had a marked
effect upon the constitution of the University. The old
town lay at the edge of Essex and Mercia, and its position
early gave it importance politically, or rather strategically,
and as a place of trade. How or whence came the nucleus
of Masters and students that should grow into a University
is unknown. One hypothesis ^ is that it was a colony from
Paris, shaken off by some academic or political disturbance.
This surmise has been connected with the year 1167. There
is more direct evidence of lectures in divinity delivered at
Oxford thirty years before, and even of lectures upon Civil
Law.^ There is at all events a circumstantial statement of
the formal reading of a book before the Masters and scholars
in the year 1185.* After this date the references multiply.
In 1209, one has a veritable " dispersion," in protest against
the hanging of some scholars. A charter from the papal
legate in 12 14 accords certain privileges, among others that
1 S&epost, p. 428. , " Dr. Rashdall's.
^ A.'F.'LedLCh,EducaUonalChaHers,etc.,^^.-&:x.m. andioosgg. (Cambridge, 191 1).
* Rashdall, o.c. ii. p. 341.
cHAP.xxxvm THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 417
a clerk arrested by the town should be surrendered on demand
of the Bishop of Lincoln ^ or the Archdeacon, or the Chan-
cellor, whom the Bishop shall set over the scholars. This
document points to the beginning of the chancellorship.
The title probably was copied from Paris ; but in Oxford
the office was to be totally different. The Paris Chancellor
was primarily a functionary of a great cathedral, who
naturally maintained its prerogatives against the encroach-
ments of university privilege. But at Oxford there was no
cathedral ; the Chancellor was the head of the University,
chosen from its Masters if not by them, and had chiefly its
interests at heart.
Making allowance for this important difference in the
Chancellor's office, the development of the University closely
resembled that of Paris. Its first extant statute, of the year
1252, prescribes that no one shall be licensed in Theology
who has not previously graduated in the Arts. To the
same year belongs a settlement of disputes between the
Irish and northern scholars. The former were included in
the Australes or southerners, one of the two Nationes com-
posing the Faculty of Arts. The Australes included the
natives of Ireland, Wales, and England south of the Trent ;
the other Natio, the Boreales, embraced the English and
Scotch coming from north of that river. But the division
into Nationes was less important than in the cosmopolitan
University of Paris, and soon ceased to exist. The Faculty
of Arts, however, continued even more dominant than at
Paris. There was no serious quarrel with the Mendicant
Orders, who established themselves at Oxford — the Domini-
cans in 1221, and the Franciscans three years later.
The curriculum of studies appears much the same at
both Universities, and, as followed in the middle of the
thirteenth century, may be thus summarized. For the
lower degree of Bachelor of Arts, four or five years were
required ; and three or four years more for the Master's
privileges. The course of study embraced grammar
(Priscian), also rhetoric, and in logic the entire Organon of
Aristotle, preceded by Porphyry's Isagoge, and with the
Sex principia of Gilbert de la Porree added to the course.
^ Oxford lay in the diocese of Lincoln.
VOL. II 2 E
41 8 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
The mathematical branches of the Quadrivium also were
required : arithmetic, music, geometry, and astronomy.
And finally a goodly part of the substantial philosophy of
Aristotle was studied, with considerable choice permitted
to the student in his selection from the works of the
Philosopher. At Oxford he might choose between the
Physics or the De coelo el mundo, or the De anima or the
De animalibus. The Metaphysics and Ethics or Politics
were also required before the Bachelor could be licensed
as a Master.
In Theology the course of study was extremely lengthy,
especially at Paris, where eight years made the minimum,
and the degree of Doctor was not given before the candi-
date had reached the age of thirty-five. The chief sub-
jects were Scripture and the Sentences of Peter Lombard.
Besides which, the candidate had to approve himself in
sermons and disputations. The latter might amount to a
trial of nerve and endurance, as well as proficiency in learn-
ing, since the candidate was expected to militare in scholis,
against a succession of opponents from six in the morning till
six in the evening, with but an hour's refreshment at noon.^
In spite of the many resemblances of Oxford to Paris
in organization and curriculum, the intellectual tendencies
of the two Universities were not altogether similar. At
Paris, speculative theology, with metaphysics and other
branches of " philosophy," regarded as its adjuncts, were of
absorbing interest. At Oxford, while the same matters
were perhaps supreme, a closer scholarship in language or
philology was cultivated by Grosseteste, and his pupils,
Adam of Marsh and Roger Bacon. The genius of observa-
tion was stirring there ; and a natural science was coming
into being, which was not to repose solely upon the
authority of ancient books, but was to proceed by the way
of observation and experiment. Yet Roger Bacon imposed
^ For the course of medicine and the list of books studied or lectured on,
especially at Montpellier, from which we have the most complete list, see Rashdall,
ii. p. ii8 sqq. and ibid. p. 780. In Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. xx.,
1909, C. H. Haskins publishes An impublished List of Text-books, belonging to
the close of the twelfth century, when classical studies had not as yet been over-
shadowed by Dialectic. See also, generally, Paetow, The Arts Course at Medieval
Universities (Univ. of Illinois, 19 10).
CHAP. XXXVIII THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 419
upon both his philology and his natural science a certain
ultimate purpose : that they should subserve the surer
ascertainment of divine and saving truth, and thus still
remain handmaids of theology, at least in theory.
The year 1200 may be taken to symbolize the middle
of a period notable for the enlargement of knowledge. If
one should take the time of this increase to extend fifty
years on either side of the central point, one might say that
the student of the year 1250 stood to his intellectual
ancestor of the year 1150, as a man in the full possession
and use of the Encyclopaedia Britannica would stand toward
his father who had saved up the purchase money for the
same. The most obvious cause of this was an increasing
acquaintance with the productions of the so-called Arabian
philosophy, and more especially with the works of Aristotle,
first through translations from the Arabic, and then through
translations from the Greek, which were made in order to
obviate the insufficiency of the former.
It would need a long excursus to review the far from
simple course of so-called Arabian thought, philosophic and
religious. It begins in the East, and follows the setting
sun. Even before the Hegira (622) the Arabs had rubbed
up against the inhabitants of Syria, Christian in name,
eastern or Hellenic in culture and proclivity. Then in a
century or two, when the first impulsion of Mohammedan
conquest was spent, the works of Aristotle and his later
Greek commentators were translated into Arabic from Syrian
versions, under the encouragement of the rulers of Bagdad.
The Syrian versions, as we may imagine, were somewhat
eclecticized and, more especially, Neo-Platonized. So it was
not the pure Aristotle that passed on into Arabic philosophy,
but the Aristotelian substance interpreted through later
phases of Greek and Oriental thought. Still, Aristotle was
the great name, and his system furnished the nucleus of
doctrine represented in the Peripatetic eclecticism which was
to constitute, par excellence, Arabic philosophy. Also Greek
mathematical and medical treatises were translated into
Arabic from Syrian versions. El-Farabi (d. 950) and
Avicenna (980-1036) were the chief glories of the Arabic
420 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
philosophy of Bagdad. These two gifted men were com-
mentators upon the works of the Stagirite, and authors of
many interesting lucubrations of their own> Arabian
philosophy declined in the East with Avicenna's death ; but
only to revive in Mussulman Spain. There its great repre-
sentative was Averroes, whose life filled the last three
quarters of the twelfth century. So great became his
authority as an Aristotelian, with the Scholastics, that he
received the name of Commentator, par excellence, even as
Aristotle was par excellence, Philosophus. We need not
consider the ideas of these men which were their own rather
than the Stagirite's ; nor discuss the pietistic and fanatical
sects among the Mussulmans, who either sought to harmonize
Aristotle with the Koran, or disapproved of Greek philosophy.
One readily perceives that in its task of acquisition and
interpretation, with some independent thinking, and still
more temperamental feeling, Arabic philosophy was the
analogue of Christian scholasticism, of which it was, so to
speak, the collateral ancestor. ^
And in this wise. The Commentaries of Averroes, for
example, were translated into Latin ; and, throughout all
the mediaeval centuries, the Commentary tended to supplant
the work commented on, whether that work was Holy
Scripture or a treatise of Aristotle. By the middle of the
thirteenth century all the important works of Averroes had
been translated into Latin, and he had many followers at
Paris ; and before then, from the College of Toledo, had
come translations of the principal works of the other chief
Arabian philosophers. Of still greater importance for the
Christian West was the work of Jews and Christians in Spain
aijd Provence, in translating the Arabic versions of Aristotle
into Latin, sometimes directly, and sometimes first into
Hebrew and then into Latin. They attempted a literal
translation, which, however, frequently failed to give the
^ See generally, Carra de Vaux, Avicenne (Paris, 1900) ; also Gazali, by the
same author.
^ Whoever will read the two monographs of the Baron Carra de Vaux, Avicenne
and Gazali, will be struck by the closely analogous courses of Moslem and Christian
thought ; each showing the parallel phases of scholastic rationalism (reliant upon
reason and rational authority) and scholastic theological piety, or mysticism
(reliant upon the authority of Revelation and sceptical as to the validity of human
reason).
cHAP.xxxviii THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 421
significance even of the Arabic version. These Arabic-Latin
translations were of primary importance for the first intro-
duction of Aristotle to the theologian philosophers of
Christian Europe. ,
They were not to remain the only ones. In the twelfth /
century, a number of Western scholars made excursions into
the East ; and the capture of Constantinople by the Crusaders
in 1204 enlarged their opportunities of studying the Greek
language and philosophy. Attempts at direct translation
into Latin began. One of the first translators was the
sturdy Englishman, Robert Grossete ste.^ But the most
adequate translations were the work of 'a Dominican, the
Fleming, William of Moerbeke, who appears to have trans-
lated a number of the works of Aristotle at the instance of
Thomas Aquinas, possibly working with him at Rome and
elsewhere in 1263 and the years following. Aquinas re-
cognized the inadequacy of the older translations, and based
his own Aristotelian Commentaries upon these made by
his collaborators, learned in the Greek tongue. The joint
labour of translation and commentary seems to have been
undertaken at the command of Pope Urban IV., who had
renewed the former prohibitions put upon the use of Aristotle
at the Paris University, in the older, shall we say, Averroistic
versions.
If these prohibitions, which did not touch the logical
treatises, were meant to be taken absolutely, such had been
far from their effect. In 12 10 and again in 1215, an inter-
dict was put upon the naturalis philosophia and the metha-
fisica of the Stagirite. It was not revoked, but rather
provisionally renewed, in 1231, until those works should be
properly expurgated. A Commission was appointed which
accomplished nothing ; and the old interdict still hung in
the air, unrescinded, yet ignored in practice. So Pope
Urban referred to it as still effective — which it was not — in
1263. For Aristotle had been more and more thoroughly
exploited in the Paris University, and by 1255 the Faculty
of Arts formally placed his works upon the list of books to
be studied and lectured upon.^
1 Ante, p. 146.
^ See Mandonnet, O. P., Aristote et la mouvement intellectuel du moyen age,
422 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
So the founding of Universities and the enlarged and
surer knowledge brought by a study of the works of Aristotle
were factors of power in the enormous intellectual advance
which took place in the last half of the twelfth and the first
half of the thirteenth century. Yet these factors could not
have operated as they did, but for the antecedent intellectual
development. Before the first half of the twelfth century
had passed, the patristic material had been mastered, along
with the current notions of antique philosophy, for the most
part contained in it. Strengthened by this discipline, men
were prepared for an extension and solidifying of their
knowledge of the universe and man. Not only had they
appropriated what the available sources had to offer, but,
when we think of Abaelard and Hugo of St. Victor, we see
that organic restatements had been made of what had been
acquired. Still, men really knew too little. It is very well
to exploit logic, and construct soul-satisfying schemes of
cosmogonic symbolism, in order to represent the deepest
truth of the material world. But the evident sense-realities
of things are importunate. The minds even of spiritual
men may, in time, crave explanation of this side of their
consciousness. Abaelard seems to have been oblivious to
natural phenomena ; Hugo recognizes them in order to elicit
their spiritual meaning ; and Alanus de Insulis, a generation
and more afterwards, takes a poet's view of Nature. Other
men had a more hard-headed interest in these phenomena ;
but they knew too little to attempt seriously to put them
together in some sense -rational scheme. The natural
knowledge presented by the writings of the Church Fathers
was little more than foolishness ; the early schoolmen were
their heirs. They observed a little for themselves ; but very
little.
There is an abysmal difference in the amount of natural
knowledge exhibited by any writing of the twelfth century,
and the works of Albertus Magnus belonging say to the
middle of the thirteenth. The obvious reason of this is,
that the latter had drawn upon the great volume of natural
contained in his Siger de Brabant (2nd ed.), and printed separately ; De Wulf,
Hist, of Medieval Phil., 3rd ed., pp. 243-253 ; C. Marchesi, U Etica Nicomachea
nella tradizione medievale (Messina, 1904) ; Grabmann, o.c. ii., p. 64 sqq.
cHAP.xxxviii THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 423
observation and hypothesis which for the preceding five
hundred years had been actually closed to western Europe,
and for five hundred years before that had been spiritually
closed, because of the ineptitude of men to read therein.
That volume was of course the encyclopaedic Natural
Philosophy of Aristotle, completed, and treated in its
ultimate causal relationships, by his Metaphysics. The
Metaphysics, the First Philosophy, gave completeness and
unity to the various provinces of natural knowledge ex-
pounded in his special treatises. For this reason, one
finds in the works of Albertus a fund of natural knowledge
solid with the solidity of the earth upon which one may
plant his feet, and totally unlike the beautiful dreaming
which drew its prototypal origins from the skyey mind of
Plato.
The utilization of Aristotle's philosophy by the English-
man, Alexander of Hales, who became a Franciscan near
the year 1230, when he had already lectured for some
thirty years at Paris ; its far more elaborate and complete
exposition by the very Teutonic Dominican, Albertus
Magnus ; and its even closer exposition and final incorpora-
tion within the sum of Christian doctrine, by Thomas, — this
three-staged achievement is the great mediaeval instance of
return to a genuine and chief source of Greek philosophy.
These three schoolmen went back of the accounts and
views of Greek philosophy contained in the writings of the
Fathers. And in so doing they also went back of what
was transmitted to the Middle Ages by Boethius and other
" transmitters." ^
But the achievement of these schoolmen had other
import. Their work represents the culmination of the
third stage of mediaeval thought : that of systematic
and organic restatement of the substance of the patristic
and antique, with added elements ; for there can be no
organic restatement which does not hold and present
something from him who achieves it. The result, attained
at least by Thomas, was even more than this. Based upon
the data and assumptions of scholasticism, it was a complete
and final statement of the nature of God so far as that
1 Ante, Chapter V.
424 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
might be known, of the creature world, corporeal and
incorporeal, and especially of man, his nature, his qualities,
his relationship to God and final destiny. And herein, in
its completeness, it was satisfying. The human mind in
seeking explanation of the phenomena of its consciousness —
presumably a reflex of the universe without — ^tends to
seek a unity of explanation. A unity of explanation
requires a completeness in the mental scheme of what is
to be explained. Thoughtful men in the Middle Ages
craved a scheme of life complete even in detail, which
should educe life's currents from a primal Godhead, and
project theni compacted, with none left straying or pointing
nowhither, on toward universal fulfilment of His will.
Mediaeval thought had been preceded by whole views,
entire schemes of life. Greek philosophy had held only
such from the time when Thales said that water was the
cause of all things. Plato's view or scheme also was
beautiful in its ideally pyramided structure, with the Idea
of the Good at the apex. For Aristotle, knowledge was
to be a syllogistic, or at least rational and jointed,
encyclopaedia, rounded, unified, complete. After the pagan
times, another whole scheme was that of Augustine, or
again, that of Gregory the Great, though barbarized
and hardened. Thus as patterns for their own thinking,
mediaeval men knew only of entire schemes of thought.
Their creed was, in every sense, a symbol of a completed
scheme. And no mediaeval philosopher or theologian
suspected himself of fragmentariness. Yet, in fact, at first
they did but select and compile. After a century and
more of this, they began to make organic statements
of parts of Christian doctrine. So we have Anselm's
Proslogium and Cur Deus Homo. Abaelard's Theologia is
far more complete ; and so is Hugo's De sacramentis,
which offers an entire scheme, symbolical, sacramental,
Christian, of God and the world and man. Hugo's scheme
might be ideally satisfying ; but little concrete knowledge
was represented in it. And when in the generations follow-
ing his death, the co-ordinated Aristotelian encyclopaedia
was brought to light and studied, then and thereafter any
whole view of the world must take account of this new
cHAP.xxxviii THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 425
volume of argument and concrete knowledge. Alexander
of Hales begins the labour of using it in a Christian
Summa ; Albertus makes prodigious advance, at least in
the massing and preparation of the full Aristotelian material.
Both try for whole views and comprehensive results.
Then Thomas, most highly favoured in his master Albert,
and gifted with a genius for acquisition and synthetic
exposition, incorporates Aristotle, and Aristotle's whole
views, into the whole view presented by the Catholic Faith.
Thomas's view, to be satisfying, had to be complete.
It was knowledge united and amalgamated into a scheme
of salvation. But a scheme of salvation is a chain, which
can hold only in virtue of its completeness ; break one link,
and it snaps ; leave one rivet loose, and it may also snap.
A scheme of salvation must answer every problem put to
it ; a single unanswered problem may imperil it. The
problem, for example, of God's foreknowledge and pre-
destination — that were indeed an open link, which Thomas
will by no means leave unwelded. Hence for us modern
men also, whose views of the universe are so shamelessly
partial, leaving so much unanswered and so much unknown,
the philosophy of Thomas may be restful, and charm by
its completeness.
It is of great interest to observe the apparently unlikely
agencies by which this new volume of knowledge was
made generally available. In fact, it was the new know-
ledge and the demand for it that forced these agencies to
fulfil the mission of exploiting it. For they had been
created for other purposes, which they also fulfilled. Verily
it happened that the chief means through which the new
knowledge was gained and published were the two new
unmonastic Orders of monks, friars rather we may call
them. Francis of Assisi was born in 1182 and died in
1226 ; Dominic was born in 1177 and died in 1221. The
Orders of Minorites and Preachers were founded by them
respectively in 1209 and 1215. Neither Order was founded
to promote secular knowledge. Francis organized his
Minorites that they might imitate the lives of Christ and
His apostles, and preach repentance to the world. Dominic
founded his Order to save souls through preaching : " For
426 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
our Order is known from the beginning to have been insti-
tuted especially for preaching and the saving of souls, and
our study [studium nostrum) should have as the chief object
of its labour to enable us to be useful to our neighbours'
souls {ut proximorum animabus possimus utiles esse)." ^
Within an apparent similarity of aim, each Order from
the first reflected the temper of its founder ; and the temper
of Francis was not that of Dominic. For our purpose here,
the difference may perhaps be symbolized by the Dominican
maxim to preach the Gospel throughout the world equally
by word and example {verbo pariter et exempio) ; and
the Franciscan maxim, to exhort all plus exempio quam
verbo? A generation later St. Bonaventura puts it thus :
" Alii (scilicet, Praedicatores) principaliter intendunt specu-
lation! . . . et postea unctioni. Alii (scilicet, Minores)
principaliter unctioni et postea speculation!. " ^
It is safe to say that St. Francis had not thought of
secular studies ; and as for the Order of Preachers, the
Constitutions of 1228 forbade the Dominicans to study
libros gentilium and seculares scientias. They are to study
libros theologicos.^ Francis, also, recognized the necessity
of Scriptural study for those Minorites who were allowed
to preach. In these views the early Franciscans and
Dominicans were not peculiar ; but rather represented the
attitude of the older monastic Orders and of the stricter
secular clergy. The Gospel teaching of Christ had nothing
to do with secular knowledge — explicitly. But the first
centuries of the Church perceived that its defenders should
be equipped with the Gentile learning, into which indeed they
had been born. And while Francis was little of a theologian,
and Dominic's personality and career remain curiously
obscure, one can safely say that both founders saw the
need of sacred studies, and left no authoritative expression
prohibiting their Orders from pursuing them to the best
advantage for the cause of Christ. Yet we are not called
on to suppose that either founder, in founding his Order
^ Constifutiones des Prediger-Ordens vom Jahre 1228, Prologus ; H. Denifle,
Archiv fur Litt. und Kirchenges. des Mittelalters, Bd. i. (1885), p. 194.
^ See Felder, Wissenschaftliche Studien im Franciskanerorden, p. 24 (Freiburg
im Breisgau, 1904) ; a valuable work.
^ See Felder, o.c. p. 29. * Constitutiones, etc., cap. 28-31.
CHAP. XXXVIII THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 427
for a definite purpose, foresaw all the means which after
his death might be employed to attain that pm'pose — or
some other !
The new Order cometh, the old rusteth. So has it
commonly been with Monasticism, Undoubtedly these
uncloistered Orders embodied novel principles of efficiency
for the upholding of the Faith : their soldiers marched
abroad evangelizing, and did not keep within their fastnesses
of holiness. The Mendicant Orders were still young, and
fresh from the inspiration of their founders. In those years
they moved men's hearts and drew them to the ideal which
had been set for themselves. The result was, that in the
first half of the thirteenth century the greater part of
Christian religious energy girded its loins with the cords of
Francis and Dominic.
At the commencement of that century, when the Orders
of Minorites and Preachers were founded, the world of
Western thought was prepared to make its own the new
Aristotelian volume of knowledge and applied reason.
Once that was opened and its contents perceived, the old
Augustinian-Neo-Platonic ways of thinking could no longer
proceed with their idealizing constructions, ignoring the
pertinence of the new data and their possible application
to such presentations of Christian doctrine as Hugo's De
sacramentis or the Lombard's Sentences. The new know-
ledge, with its methods, was of such insistent import, that
it had at once to be considered, and either invalidated by
argument, or accepted, and perhaps corrected, and then
accommodated within an enlarged Christian Philosophy.
The spiritual force animating a new religious movement
attracts the intellectual energies of the period, and furnishes
them a new reality of purpose. This was true of early
Christianity, and likewise true of the fresh religious impulse
which proceeded from Francis's energy of love and the
organizing zeal of Dominic. From the very years of their
foundation, 1209 and 1215, the rapid increase of the two
Orders realized their founders' visions of multitudes hurry-
ing from among all nations to become Minorites or
Preachers. And more and more their numbers were
recruited from among the clergy. The lay members,
428 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
important in the first years of Francis's labours, were soon
wellnigh submerged by the clericals ; and the educated or
learned element became predominant in the Franciscan
Order as it was from the first in the Dominican.
Consider for an instant the spread of the former. In
1216, Cardinal Jacques of Vitry finds the Minorites in
Lombardy, Tuscany, Apulia, and Sicily. The next year
five thousand are reported to have assembled at the
general meeting of the Order. Two years later Francis
proceeds to carry out his plan of world-conquest by apportion-
ing the Christian countries, and sending the brethren into
France, Germany, Hungary, Spain, and throughout Italy.^
It was a period when in the midst of general ignorance on
the part of the clergy as well as laity. Universities [generalia
studio) were rising in Italy, France, and England. The
popes. Innocent III. (died 1216), Honorius III. (died 1221),
and Gregory IX. (died 1241), were seeking to raise the
/^education and even the learning of the Church. Their
efforts found in the zeal of the Mendicants a ready response
which was not forthcoming from the secular clergy. The
Mendicants were zealous for the Faith, and loyal liegemen
of the popes, who were their sustainers and the guarantors
of their freedom from local ecclesiastical interference. What
more fitting instruments could be found to advance the cause
of sacred learning at the Universities, and enlarge it with
the new knowledge which must either serve the Faith
or be its enemy. If all this was not evident in the first
decades of the century, it had become so by the middle of
it, when the Franciscan Bonaventura and the Dominicans
Albertus and Thomas were the intellectual glories of the
time. And thus, while the ardour of the new Orders drew
to their ranks the learning and spiritual energy of the
Church, the intellectual currents of the time caught up those
same Brotherhoods, which had so entrusted their own
salvation to the mission of saving other souls abroad in
the world, where those currents flowed.
The Universities, above all the University par excellence,
were in the hands of the secular clergy ; and long and in-
tricate is the story of their jealous endeavours to exclude
^ Of. Felder, o.c. p. 107 sqq.
cHAP.xxxvm THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 429
the Mendicants from Professors' chairs. The Dominicans
estabhshed themselves at Paris in 1217, the Franciscans
two years later. The former succeeded in obtaining one
chair of theology at the University in 1229, and a second
in 1231 ; and about the same time the Franciscans obtained
their first chair, and filled it with Alexander of Hales.
When he died an old man, fifteen years later, they wrote
upon his tomb :
" Gloria Doctorum, decus et flos Philosophorum,
Auctor scriptorum vir Alexander variorum,"
closing the epitaph with the words : ' ' primus Doctor eorum, ' '
to wit, of the Minorites. He was the author of the first
Summa theologiae, in the sense in which that term fits the
work of Albert and Thomas. And there is no harm in
repeating that this Summa of Alexander's was the first
work of a mediaeval schoolman in which use was made of the
physics, metaphysics, and natural history, of Aristotle.^ He
died in 1245, when the Franciscans appear to have possessed
two chairs at the University. One of them was filled in
1248 by Bonaventura, who nine years later was taken from
his professorship, to become Minister-General of his Order.
It was indeed only in this year 1257 ^^3± the University
itself had been brought by papal injunctions formally to
recognize as magisfer this most eloquent of the Franciscans,
and the greatest of the Dominicans, Thomas Aquinas. The
latter's master, Albert, had been recognized as magister by
the University in 1245.
Before the intellectual achievements of these two men,
the Franciscan fame for learning paled. But that Order
went on winning fame across the Channel, which the
Dominicans had crossed before them. In 1224 they came
to Oxford, and were received as guests by an establishment
of Dominicans : this was but nine years after the foundation
of the preaching Order ! Perhaps the Franciscan glories
overshone the Dominican at Oxford, where Grosseteste
almost belongs to them and Adam of Marsh and Roger Bacon.
But whichever Order led, there can be no doubt that together
they included the greater part of the intellectual productivity
^ Cf. Felder, ox. p. 177 sqq.
430 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvii
of the maturing thirteenth century. Nevertheless, in spite
of the vast work of the Orders in the field of secular know-
ledge, it will be borne in mind that the advancement of sacra
doctrina, theology, the saving understanding of Scripture,
was the end and purpose of all study with Dominicans and
Franciscans, as it was universally with all orthodox mediaeval
schoolmen ; although for many the nominal purpose seems
a mere convention. Few men of the twelfth or thirteenth
century cared to dispute the principle that the Carmina
poetarum and the Dicta philosophorum " should be read not
for their own sake, but in order that we may learn holy
Scripture to the best advantage : I say they are to be
offered as first-fruits, for we should not grow old in them,
but spring from their thresholds to the sacred page, for whose
sake we were studying them for a while." ^
Within the two Orders, especially the Franciscan, men
differed sharply as to the desirability of learning. So did
their contemporaries among the secular clergy, and their
mediaeval and patristic predecessors as far back as Clement
of Alexandria and Tertullian. On this matter a large
variance of opinion might exist within the compass of
orthodoxy ; for Catholicism did not forbid men to value
secular knowledge, provided they did not cleave to opinions
contradicting Christian verity. This was heresy, and indeed
was the sum of what was called Averroism, the chief
intellectual heresy of the thirteenth century. It consisted
in a sheer following of Aristotle and his infidel commentator,
wheresoever the opinions of the Philosopher, so interpreted,
might lead. They were not to be corrected in the interest
of Christian truth. A representative Averroist, and one so
important as to draw the fire of Aquinas, as well as the
censures of the Church, was Siger de Brabant. He followed
Aristotle and his commentator in maintaining : The universal
oneness of the (human) intelligence, the anima intellectiva,
an opinion which involved the denial of an individual
immortality, with its rewards and punishments ; the eternity
of the visible world, — uncreated and everlasting ; a rational
necessitarianism which precluded freedom of human action
and moral responsibility.
^ From Denifle, Universitdten des Mittelalters, i. 99, note 192.
CHAP. XXXVIII THE NEW KNOWLEDGE 431
It would be hard to find theses more fundamentally
opposed to the Christian Faith. Yet Siger may have deemed
himself a Christian. With other Averroists, he sought to
preserve his religious standing by maintaining that these
opinions were true according to philosophy, but not according
to the Catholic Faith : " Dicunt enim ea esse vera secundum
philosophiam, sed non secundum fidem catholicam." ^
With what sincerity Siger held this untenable position is
hard to say.
^ See generally, Mandonnet, Siger de Brabant et Vaverroisme latin an moyen
age (and ed., Louvain, 1911) ; Baeumker (Beitrdge, 1898), Die Impossibilia des
Siger von Brabant ; De Wulf, Hist, of Medieval Philosophy, 3rd ed., p. 379 sqq.
(Longmans, 1909).
CHAPTER XXXIX
BONAVENTURA
The range and character of the ultimate intellectual interests
of the thirteenth century may be studied in the works of
four men : St. Bonaventura, Albertus Magnus and St.
Thomas, and lastly Roger Bacon. The first and last were
as different as might be : and both were Franciscans.
Albertus and Thomas represent the successive stages of one
achievement, the greatest in the course of mediaeval thought.
In some respects, their position is intermediate between Bona-
ventura and Bacon, Bonaventura reflects many twelfth-
century ways of thinking ; Albert and Thomas embody par
excellence the intellectual movement of the thirteenth century
in which they all lived ; and Roger Bacon stands for much,
the exceeding import of which was not to be recognized
until long after he was forgotten. The four were contem-
poraries, and, with the possible exception of Bacon, knew
each other well. Thomas was Albert's pupil ; Thomas and
Bonaventura taught at the same time in the Faculty of
Theology at Paris, and stood together in the academic con-
flict between their Orders and the Seculars. Albertus and
Bonaventura also must have known each other, teaching at
the same time in the theological faculty. As for Bacon, he
was likewise at Paris studying and teaching, when the others
were there, and may have known them.^ Albert and
Thomas came of princely stock, and sacrificed their fortune
in the world for theology's sake. Bacon's family was well-
to-do ; Bonaventura was lowly born.
^ Albert was born probably in 1193, and died in 1280; Bacon was born
some twenty years later, and died about 1292. Bonaventura was born in 1221,
and Thomas in 1225 or 1227 ; they both died in 1274.
432
CHAP. XXXIX BON A VENTURA 433
John of Fidanza, who under the name of Bonaventura
was to become Minister-General of his Order, Cardinal, Saint,
and Doctor Seraphicus, saw the light in the Tuscan village
of Bagnorea. That he was of Italian, half Latin-speaking,
stock is apparent from his own fluent Latin. Probably in
the year 1238, when seventeen years old, he joined the
Franciscan Order ; and four years later was sent to Paris,
where he studied under Alexander of Hales. In 1248 he
was licensed to lecture publicly, and thenceforth devoted
himself at Paris to teaching and writing, and defending his
Order against the Seculars, until 1257, when, just as the
University conferred on him the title of Magister, he was
chosen Minister-General of his Order, in the thirty-seventh
year of his age. The greater part of his writings were com-
posed before the burdens of this primacy drew him from his
studies. He was still to become Prince of the Church, for
he was made Cardinal of Albano in 1273, the year before
his death.
For all the Middle Ages the master in theology was
Augustine. Either he was studied directly in his own writ-
ings, or his views descended through the more turbid channels
of the works of men he influenced. Mediaeval theology
was overwhelmingly Augustinian until the middle of the
thirteenth century ; and since theology was philosophy's
queen, mediaeval philosophy conformed to that system which
Augustine employed in his theology. This, if traced back-
ward to its source, should be called Platonism, or Neo-
Platonism if we turn our mind to the modes in which
Augustine made use of it. His Neo-Platonism was not
unaffected by Peripatetic and later systems of Greek philo-
sophy ; yet it was far more Platonic than Stoical or
Aristotelian.
Those first teachers, who in the maturity of their powers
became Brothers Minorites, were Augustinians in theology,
and consequently Platonists, in so far as Platonism made
part of Augustine's doctrines. Thus it was with the first
great teacher at the Minorites school in Oxford, Robert
Grosseteste, and with the first great Minorite teacher at
Paris, Alexander of Hales. Both of these men were pro-
moters of the study of Aristotle ; yet neither became so
VOL. II 2 F
434 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
imbued with Aristotelianism as to revise either his theological
system or the Platonic doctrines which seemed germane to
it. Moreover, in so far as we may imagine St. Francis to
have had a theology, we must feel that Augustine, with his
hand on Plato's shoulder, would have been more congenial
to him than Aristotle. And so in fact it was to be with
his Order. Augustine's fervent piety, his imagination and
religious temperament, held the Franciscans fast. Surely he
was very close to the soul of that eloquent Franciscan
teacher, who called Alexander of Hales " master and father,"
sat at his feet, and never thought of himself as delivering
new teachings. It would have been strange indeed if Bona-
ventura had broken from the influences which had formed
his soul, this Bonaventura whose most congenial precursor
lived and wrote and followed Augustine far back in the
twelfth century, and bore the name of Hugo of St. Victor.
Bonaventura's writings did much to fix Augustinianism
upon his Order ; rivalry with the Dominicans doubtless
helped to make it fast ; for the latter were following another
system under the dominance of their two Titan leaders, who
had themselves come to maturity with the new Aristotelian
influences, whereof they were magna pars.
But just asiGrosseteste and Alexander made use of what
they knew of Aristotle, so Bonaventura had no thought of
misprizing him who was becoming in western Europe " the
master of those who know." In specific points this wise
Augustinian might prefer Aristotle to Plato. For example,
he chose to stand, with the former, upon the terra firma of
sense perception, rather than keep ever on the wing in the
upper region of ideal concepts.
" Although the anima, according to Augustine, is linked to
eternal principles {legibus aeternis) , since somehow it does reach the
light of the higher reason, still it is unquestionable, as the Philo-
sopher says, that cognition originates in us by the way of the senses,
of memory, and of experience, out of which the universal is
deduced, which is the beginning of art and knowledge {artis et
scientiae). Hence, since Plato referred all certain cognition to
the intelligible or ideal world, he was rightly criticized by Aristotle.
Not because he spoke ill in saying that there are ideas and eternal
rationes ; but because, despising the world of sense, he wished
to refer all certain cognition to those Ideas. And thus, although
CHAP. XXXIX BONA VENTURA 435
Plato seems to make firm the path of wisdom (sapientiae) which
proceeds according to the eternal rationes, he destroys the way
of knowledge, which proceeds according to the rationes of created
things {rationes creatas) . So it appears that, among philosophers,
the word of wisdom [sermo sapientiae) was given to Plato, and the
word of knowledge (scientiae) to Aristotle. For that one chiefly
looked to the things above, and this one considered things below. ^
But both the word of wisdom and of knowledge, through the
Holy Spirit, was given to Augustine, as the pre-eminent declarer
of the entire Scripture." ^
So there is Aristotelian ballast in Bonaventura's Platonic-
Augustinian theology. His chief divergence from Albert
and Thomas (who, of course, likewise held Augustine in
honour, and drew on Plato when they chose) is to be found
in his temperamental attitude, toward life, toward God, or
toward theology and learning. His Augustinian soul held
to the pre-eminence of the good above the true, and tended
to shape the second to the first. So he maintained the
primacy of willing over knowing. Man attains God through
goodness of will and through love. The way of knowledge
is less prominent with Bonaventura than with Aquinas.
Surely the latter, and his master Albert, saw the main
sanction of secular knowledge in its ministry to sacra doctrina;
but their hearts may seem to tarry with the handmaid.
Bonaventura's position is the same ; but his heart never
tarries with the handmaid ; for with him heart and mind are
ever constant to the queen, Theology. Yet he recognizes
the queen's need of the handmaid. Holy Writ is not
for babes ; the fulness of knowledge is needed for its
understanding : " Non potest intelligi sacra Scriptura sine
aliarum scientiarum peritia." ^ And without philosophy
many matters of the Faith cannot be intelligently discussed.
There is no knowledge which may not be sanctified to the
purpose of understanding Scripture ; only let this purpose
really guide the mind's pursuits.
^ So Raphael represents them in his " School of Athens."
^ Bonaventura, Sermo IV., Quaracchi edition, tome v. p. 572 (cited by De
Wulf, Hist. etc. p. 304, note). With aU their Augustinian- Platonism, the Fran-
ciscans made a good second to the Dominicans in the study of Aristotle, as is
proved by the great number of commentaries upon his works by members of the
former Order. See Felder, o.c. p. 479.
^ Epist. de tribus quaestionibus, § 12.
436 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
Bonaventura wrote a short treatise to emphasize these
universally admitted principles, and to show how every form
of human knowledge conformed to the supreme illumination
afforded by Scripture, and might be reduced to the terms
and methods of Theology, which is Scripture rightly
understood. He named the tract De reductione artium ad
theologiam ^ (The leading back of the Arts to Theology) .
" ' Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from
the Father of lights,' says James. This indicates the source of all
illumination, and the streaming of all enlightenment from that
fontal light. While every illumination is inner knowledge
{omnis illuminatio cognitio interna sit) we may distinguish the
external light {lumen exterius), to wit, the light of mechanical
art ; the lower light, to wit, the Hght of sense perception ; the
interior light, to wit, the light of philosophical cognition ; the
superior light, to wit, the light of grace and Holy Scripture.
The first illuminates as to the arts and crafts ; the second as to
natural form ; the third as to intellectual truth ; the fourth as
to saving truth."
He enumerates the mechanical arts, drawing from Hugo
of St. Victor ; then he follows with Augustine's explanation
of the second lumen, as that which discerns corporeal things.
He next speaks of the third lumen which lightens us to the
investigation of truths intelligible, scrutinizing the truth of
words (Logic), or the truth of things (Physics), or the truth
of morals (Ethics). The fourth lumen, of Holy Scripture,
comes not by seeking, but descends through inspiration from
the Father of lights. It includes the literal, the spiritual,
moral and anagogic signification of Scripture, teaching the
eternal generation and incarnation of Christ, the way to live,
and the union of God and the soul. The first of these
branches pertains to faith, the second to morals, and the
third to the aim and end of both.
" Let us see," continues Bonaventura, " how the other
illuminations have to be reduced to the light of Holy
Scripture. And first as to the illumination from sense
cognition, as to which we consider its means, its exercise,
and its delight {oblectamentum) ." Its means is the Word
eternally generated, and incarnated in time ; its exercise is
in the sense perception of an ordered way of living, following
^ Tome V. (Quaracchi ed.) pp. 319-325.
CHAP. XXXIX BONA VENTURA 437
the suitable and avoiding the nocuous ; and as for its object
of delight, as every sense pursues that which delights it, so
the sense of our heart should seek the beautiful, harmonious,
and sweet-smelling. In this way divine wisdom dwells
hidden in sense cognition.
Next, as to the illumination of mechanical art, which is
concerned with the production of the works of craft. Herein
likewise may be observed analogies with the light from Holy
Scripture, which reveals the Word, the order of living, and
the union of God and the soul. No creature proceeds from
the great Artificer, save through the Word ; and the human
artificer works to produce a beautiful, useful, and enduring
work ; which corresponds to the Scriptural order of living.
Each human artificer makes his work that it may bring him
praise or use or delight ; as God made the rational soul, to
praise and serve and take delight in Him, through love.
By similar methods of reasoning Bonaventura next
" reduces," or leads back. Logic, and Natural and Moral
Philosophy to the ways and purposes of Theology, and
shows how " the multiform wisdom of God, which is set
forth lucidly by Scripture, lies hidden in every cognition,
and in every nature. It is also evident that all kinds of
knowledge minister to Theology ; and that Theology takes
illustrations, and uses phrases, pertaining to every kind of
knowledge {cognitionis) . It is also plain how ample is the
illuminating path, and how in every thing that is sensed or
perceived, God himself lies concealed." ^
Ways of reasoning change, while conclusions sometimes
endure. Bonaventura's reasoning in the above treatise is for
us abstruse and fanciful ; yet many will agree with the
conclusion, that all kinds of knowledge may minister to our
thought of God, and of man's relationship to Him. And
with Bonaventura, all his knowledge, his study of secular
philosophy, his logic and powers of presentation, had theology
unfailingly in view, and ministered to the satisfaction, the
1 This is from § 26, the last in the work. Bonaventura has already said (§ 7) :
" Omnes istae cognitiones ad cognitionem Sacrae Scripturae ordinantur, in
ea clauduntur et in ilia perficiuntur, et mediante ilia ad aeternam illuminationem
ordinantur." (" All kinds of knowledge are ordained for the knowledge of Holy
Scripture, in this are enclosed and in that are perfected ; and through that as a
mediator are ordered for eternal illumination.")
438 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
actualization (to use our old word) of his religious nature.
He belongs among those intellectually gifted men — Augustine,
Anselm, Hugo of St. Victor — whose mental and emotional
powers draw always to God, and minister to the conception
of the soul's union with the living spring of its being. The
life, the labours of Bonaventura were as the title of the little
book we have just been worrying with, a reductio artium ad
theologiam, a constant adapting of all knowledge and ways
of meditation, to the sense of God and the soul's inclusion
in the love divine. No one should expect to find among
his compositions any independent treatment of secular
knowledge for its own sake. Rather throughout his writings
the reasonings of philosophy are found always ministering
to the sovereign theme.
The most elaborate of Bonaventura's doctrinal works
was his Commentary upon the Lombard's Sentences. In
form and substance it was a Summa theologiae} He also
made a brief and salutary theological compend, which he
called the Breviloquium.^ The note of devotional piety is
struck by the opening sentence, taken from the Epistle to
the Ephesians, and is held throughout the work :
" ' 1 bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
from whom the whole fatherhood in heaven and earth is named,
that He would grant you according to the riches of His glory to be
strengthened by His Spirit in the inner man ; that Christ may
dwell in your hearts through faith ; that ye, being rooted and
grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints,
what is the breadth and length and height and depth ; and to
know the love of Clirist which passeth knowledge, that ye might
be filled in all the fulness of God.' The great doctor of the
Gentiles discloses in these words the source, progress, and state
{ortus, progressus, status) of Holy Scripture, which is called
Theology ; indicating that the source is to be thought upon
according to the grace [influentiam) of the most blessed Trinity ;
the progress with reference to the needs of human capacity ;
and the state or fruit with respect to the superabundance of a
superplenary felicity.
" For the Source lies not in human investigation, but in divine
revelation, which flows from the Father of lights, from whom all
fatherhood in heaven and earth is named, from whom, through
^ It is contained in tomes i.-iv. of the Quaracchi edition.
^ T. V. pp. 201-291.
CHAP. XXXIX BON A VENTURA 439
His Son Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit flows in us ; and through
the Holy Spirit bestowing, as He wills, gifts on each, faith is
given, and through faith Christ dwells in our hearts. This is the
knowledge of Jesus Christ, from which, as from a source, comes
the certitude and understanding of the whole Scripture. Where-
fore it is impossible that an}'' one should advance in its know-
ledge, unless he first has Christ infused in him. . . .
" The Progress of Holy Scripture is not bound to the laws of
reasonings and definitions, Hke the other sciences ; but, conform-
ably to supernatural light, proceeds to give to man the wayfarer
{homini viatori) a knowledge of things sufficing for his salvation,
by plain words in part, and in part mystically : it presents the
contents of the universe as in a Summa, in which is observed the
breadth ; it describes the descent (from above) in which is con-
sidered the length ; it describes the goodness of the saved, in
which is considered the height ; it describes the misery of the
damned, in which consists the depth not only of the universe
itself but of the divine judgment. . . .
" The State or fruit of Holy Scripture is the plenitude of
eternal felicity. For the Book containing words of eternal life
was written not only that we might believe, but that we might
have eternal life, in which we shall see, we shall love, and all our
desires shall be filled, whereupon we shall know the love which
passeth knowledge, and be filled in all the fulness of God. . . .
" As to the progress of Scripture, first is to be considered the
breadth, which consists in the multitude of parts. . . . Rightly is
Holy Scripture divided into the Old and New Testament, and not
in theorica and practica, like philosophy ; because since Scripture is
founded on the knowledge of faith, which is a virtue and the basis
of morals, it is not possible to separate in Scripture the knowledge
of things, or of what is to be believed, from the knowledge of
morals. It is otherwise with philosophy, which handles not only
the truth of morals, but the true, speculatively considered. Then
as Holy Scripture is knowledge {notitia) moving to good and
recalling from evil, through fear and love, so it is divided into two
Testaments, whose difference, briefly, is fear and love. . . .
" Holy Scripture has also length, which consists in the descrip-
tion of times and ages from the beginning to the day of Judg-
ment. . . . The progress of the whole world is described by
Scripture, as in a beautiful poem, wherein one may follow the
descent of time, and contemplate the variety, manifoldness,
equity, order, righteousness, and beauty of the multitude of
divine judgments proceeding from the wisdom of God ruling the
world : and as with a poem, so with this ordering of the world,
one cannot see its beauty save by considering the whole. . . .
" No less has Sacred Scripture height {sublimitatem) , consisting
440 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
in description of the ranged hierarchies, the ecclesiastical, angeUc,
and divine. . . . Even as things have being in matter or nature,
they have also being in the anima through its acquired knowledge ;
they have also being in the anima through grace, also through
glory ; and they have also being in the way of the eternal — in
arte aeterna. Philosophy treats of things as they are in nature,
or in the anima according to the knowledge which is naturally
implanted or acquired. But theology as a science (scientia)
founded upon faith and revealed by the Holy Spirit, treats of
those matters which belong to grace and glory and to the eternal
wisdom. Whence placing philosophic cognition beneath itself,
and drawing from nature {de naturis rerum) as much as it may
need to make a mirror yielding a reflection of things divine, it
constructs a ladder which presses the earth at the base, and
touches heaven at the top : and all this through that one hierarch
Jesus Christ, who through his assumption of human nature, is
hierarch not in the ecclesiastical hierarchy alone, but also in the
angelic ; and is the medial person in the divine hierarchy of the
most blessed Trinity." ^
The depth {profunditas) of Scripture consists in its
manifold mystic meanings. It reveals these meanings of
the creature world for the edification of man journeying to
his fatherland. Scripture throughout its breadth, length,
height, and depth uses narrative, threat, exhortation, and
promise all for one end. " For this doctrina exists in order
that we may become good and be saved, which comes not
through naked consideration, but rather through inclina-
tion of the will. . . , Here examples have more effect than
arguments, promises are more moving than ratiocinations,
and devotion is better than definition." Hence Scripture
does not follow the method and divisions of other sciences,
but uses its own diverse means for its saving end. The
Prologue closes with rules of Scriptural interpretation. ^
In our plan of following what is of human interest in
mediaeval philosophy or theology, prologues and introduc-
tions are sometimes of more importance than the works
which they preface ; for they disclose the writer's intent
^ Breviloquium, Prologus.
^ One feels the reality of Bonaventura's distinctions here between theology
and philosophy. They are enunciations of his religious sense, and possess a
stronger validity than any elaborate attempt to distinguish by argument between
the two. Thomas distinguishes them with excellent reasoning. It lacks con-
vincingness, perhaps, from the fact that Thomas's theology is so largely philosophy,
as Roger Bacon said.
CHAP. XXXIX BONAVENTURA 44 1
and purpose, and the endeavour within him, which may be
more intimately himself, than his performance. So more
space has been given to Bonaventura's Prologue than the
body of the treatise will require. The order of topics is that
of the Lombard's Sentences or Aquinas's Summa. Seven
successive partes consider the Trinity, the creation, the
corruption from sin, the Incarnation, the grace of the Holy
Spirit, the sacramental medicine, and the Last Judgment.
Each pars is divided into chapters setting forth some special
topic. Bonaventura's method, pursued in every chapter, is
to state first the scriptural or dogmatic propositions, and
then give their reason, which he introduces with such words
as : Ratio autem ad praedictorum intelligentiam haec est.
The work is a complete systematic compend of Christian
theology ; its conciseness and lucidity of statement are
admirable. For an example of its method and quality, the
first chapter of the sixth part may be given, upon the origin
of Sacraments.
" Having treated of the Trinity of God, of the creation of the
world, the corruption of sin, the incarnation of the Word, and the
grace of the Holy Spirit, it is time to treat of the sacramental
medicine, regarding which there are seven matters to consider :
the origin of the sacraments, their variation, distinction, appoint-
ment, dispensation, repetition, and the integrity of each.
" Concerning ^ the origin of the Sacraments this is to be held,
that sacraments are sensible signs divinely appointed as medica-
ments, in which under cover of things sensible, divine virtue
secretly operates ; also that from likeness they represent, from
appointment they signify, from sanctification they confer, some
spiritual grace, through which the soul is healed from the in-
firmities of vice ; and for this as their final end they are ordained ;
yet they avail for humility, instruction, and exercise as for a
subsidiary end.
" The reason and explanation of the aforesaid is this : The
reparative principle (principium), is Christ crucified, to wit, the
Word incarnate, that directs all things most compassionately
because divine, and most compassionately heals because divinely
incarnate. It must repair, heal, and save the sick human race, in
a way suited to the sick one, the sickness and the occasion of it,
^ As this chapter opens a pars, it begins with a recapitulation of what has
preceded and a summary of what is to come. The specific topic of the chapter
commences here.
442 THE MEDIAEVAL MIND bookvh
and the cure of the sickness. The physician is the incarnate
Word, to wit, God invisible in a visible nature. The sick man is
not simply spirit, nor simply flesh, but spirit in mortal flesh.
The disease is original sin, which through ignorance infects the
mind, and through concupiscence infects the flesh. While the
origin of this fault primarily lay in reason's consent, yet its
occasion came from the senses of the body. Consequently, in
order that the medicine should correspond to these conditions,
it should be not simply spiritual, but should have somewhat of
sensible signs ; for as things sensible were the occasion of the
soul's falling, they should be the occasion of its rising again.
Yet since visible signs of themselves have no efficiency ordained
for grace, although representative of its nature, it was necessary
that they should by the author of grace be appointed to signify
and should be blessed in order to sanctify ; so that there should
be a representation from natural likeness, a signification from
appointment, and a sanctification and preparedness for grace
from the added benediction, through which our soul may be
cured and made whole.
" Again, since curative grace is not given to the puffed up, the
unbelieving, and disdainful, so these sensible signs divinely given,
ought to be such as not only would sanctify and confer grace, and
heal, but also would instruct by their signification, humble by
their acceptance, and exercise through their diversity ; that thus
through exercise despondency {acedia) should be shut out from the
desiderative [nature], through instruction ignorance be shut out
from the rational [nature], through humiliation pride be shut out
from the irascible [nature], and the whole soul become curable by
the grace of the Holy Spirit, which remakes us according to these
three capacities (potenfias) ^ into the image of the Trinity and
Christ. Finally, whereas the grace of the Holy Spirit is received
through these sensible signs divinely appointed, it is found in
them as an accident. Hence sacraments of this kind are called
the vessels and cause of grace : not that grace is of their substance
or produced by them as by a cause ; for its place is in the soul,
and it is infused by God alone ; but because it is ordained by
divine decree, that in them and through them we shall draw the
grace of cure from the supreme physician, Christ ; although God
has not fettered His grace to the sacraments.^
" From the premises, therefore, appears not only what may be
the origin of the sacraments, but also the use and fruit. For
their origin is Christ the Lord ; their use is the act which exercises,
teaches, and humbles ; their fruit is the cure and salvation of men.
^ I.e. the desiderative, rational, and irascible elements in man.
^ Bonaventura closely follows Hugo of St. Victor's De sacramentis, see ante,
Chap. XXIX., especially p. 98.
CHAP. XXXIX BON A VENTURA 443
It is also evident that the efficient cause of the sacraments is the
divine appointment ; their material cause is the figurement of
the sensible sign ; their formal cause the sanctification by grace ;
their final cause the medicinal healing of men. And because
they are named from their form and end they are called sacraments,
as it were medicamenta sanctificantia. Through them the soul is
led back from the filth of vice to perfect sanctification. And so,
although corporeal and sensible, they are medicinal, and to be
venerated as holy because they signify holy mysteries, and make
ready for the holy gifts {charismata) given by most holy God ;
and they are divinely consecrated by holy institution and benedic-
tion for the holiest worship of God appointed in holy church, so
that rightly they should be called sacraments."
The Breviloquium was Bonaventura's rational com-
pendium of Christian theology. It offered in brief compass
as complete a system as the bulkiest Summa could carry
out to doctrinal elaboration. Quite different in method and
intent was his equally famous Itinerarium mentis in Deum}
the praise of which, according to the great Chancellor
Gerson, could not fitly be uttered by mortal mouth. We
have seen how in the Reductio artium ad theologiam Bona-
ventura conformed all modes of perception and knowledge
to the uses and modes of theology ; the final end of which
is man's salvation, consisting in the union of the soul with
God, through every form of enlightenment and all the
power of love. The Breviloquium h 
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